Haunted By Ghosts
by DragonLadyRelena
Summary: (On Hold) It's eight years after the Dusty Saga. She and Lance now have six kids, and there's a threat to them. Is it a new enemy or are they simply haunted by old ghosts? Will they be able to save the universe or will everything fall apart?
1. New Enemy

**Disclaimer:** Once again, I don't own it and never will. Can I ever stop typing this horrid torture out?

**AN:** Well, it certainly didn't take long for Dusty and company to start bugging me again. There I was, sitting outside, having a smoke and reading, when an idea for another story hit me. I'm working on THREE at the moment (two Dragonball Z and this one), PLUS a novel, and it's going to drive me crazy, I know it. I'll do my best not to let them mix together, but if it does, it's totally unintentional, and I apologize in advance.

Arus: Castle of Lions 

**Eight Years Later**

Barack stood in the castle library, looking up at the pictures Allura had asked his mother to do. He'd seen each picture almost everyday of his life, but something drew him to them day after day. He couldn't say what it was, only that it he felt a definite pull from them. It was something, at fifteen, he barely understood, but his parents seemed to know, but never explained to him, at least never completely.

The first was of Aunt Allura. A red plaid blanket was spread on the emerald green grass under the willow in the garden where there were both beams of sunlight and dappled shade. A whicker picnic basket was placed to one side, propping an open bottle of wine and a stemmed glass against it. She was on her back with her left arm over her head, elbow bent, and her hand hidden by her hair spread like a golden halo around her head. He took in the long filmy skirt- purple pansies rioting against a cool blue background- and the thin-strapped, narrow top in the same shade of blue, golden hoop earrings, and the right strap off her shoulder. Her right knee was up, exposing her leg to mid thigh. She looked like a faerie queen with the exotic shape of her eyes, and the utter female confidence of the pose. A faerie queen drowsing alone in her private glade.

A slim book with a ragged white cover dangled precariously from her right hand as though she'd fallen asleep reading it. She'd never see herself this way, Barack knew. Not as romantic, and relaxed and sexy all at once. Made bold by the colors, made dreamy by the light and sexy by the pose with her leg bare and the bright skirt carelessly draped. Made, somehow, powerful even at rest. It was clear that she was alone, that she wished to be alone.

The next was of Uncle Keith, who sat in his chair in the rec room. The sun was just rising, painting the sky reds, oranges and pinks. He was waiting for the others to join him, but for now he was alone. His face was closed but it was his eyes that gave away where his thoughts were leading. Black and compelling, they could freeze a person at twenty paces or, on the right occasion, set a woman's body on fire from across the room. As Dusty had seen him watch Allura from a distance, she knew the look well enough to paint it.

His hair brushed his shoulders, untamed and unfettered, so black it was almost blue. Barack could see that his cuffs were buttoned, giving the impression that maybe Nanny had just been by and he'd hurriedly buttoned them before she noticed.

The third was of Lance, his father in every way except blood, and Barack knew as he studied the picture that blood often didn't count when it came to love. In the middle of a field, mist rising about knee height from the ground, stood a vintage World War II airplane, gleaming silver in the predawn light. Lance stood next to it, one elbow resting on its wing, the other hand in the pocket of his bomber jacket, his brown hair ruffled by the breeze. He looked over his shoulder, as though someone had just spoken to him, throwing his profile into relief. His high brow, patrician nose and slightly clefted chin were all perfectly proportioned to make him unique, handsome, not in a classic way, but in his own.

His jeans rode low on his hips, white at the stress points, the lower half of the legs flaring over his cowboy boots. His brown hair was like Keith's, untamed and untied, but it gave him more of a rakish air, rather than simply looking untidy.

Next in line was Uncle Pidge, who, fortunately, had grown considerably since the picture had been painted. Pidge leaned against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, his glasses sliding down his nose. His brown eyes were shadowed with past thoughts, but he smiled despite them or perhaps because of them. The light green of his headband stood in gentle contrast to his chocolate brown curls, keeping the mop, somehow, from looking untidy and slightly tamed.

His pose was relaxed, but under that was an acrobatic tension, as though at any moment he might do a back flip or a cartwheel. He'd taught Barack and almost anyone else who showed an interest how to tumble, gladly and often extravagantly demonstrating a move or a combination of them to an enthusiastic audience.

Uncle Hunk's picture hung beside his, last but never least, and Barack wondered just what he was up to these days. He'd left some five years ago, for where no one seemed certain. At first, he'd checked in regularly, but his messages had come fewer and farther between before they'd stopped completely. Barack sighed as he studied the picture once again.

Hunk lay stretched out on the grass in the shade of a large oak tree, children ranging in age from five to twelve scattered around and over him, all of them sound asleep. Kids seemed to take to Hunk, so Dusty'd captured it. It was after soccer practice, all of them worn out from a long, hot afternoon of play.

His broad shoulders made the perfect pillow for a red headed boy and his huge arms were cuddled like teddy bears by four kids, two each arm. Several children lay sprawled over his chest, and stretched alongside him. More of them lay across his legs and over each other, looking more like a pile of puppies than kids. It always made him smile to see that picture, knowing that Hunk was probably surrounded by children of all ages, as he always seemed to be.

The group picture came next, hung in a place of honor over the ox-roasting fireplace that always had a fire flickering gently inside it from the first snowfall in winter to the first warm day in spring. The five of them might not have shared blood, but they were so obviously fraternal. The four men simply exuded manhood like other men might a distinctive aftershave. Barack didn't doubt for a minute that they knew it. They were what they were, he thought as he'd studied the other pictures, and were pretty damn pleased about it, too. Dusty respected confidence and a good, healthy ego, so she painted it.

They were gathered together around the huge fireplace in the library. Lance had his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket; Keith looked slick as always in his red uniform, Hunk looking the part of the Black Knight except for the brilliant smile on his face, Pidge's glasses were sliding down his nose again, a book in one hand with his finger holding his place, and Allura was wearing a blue cotton tank top, and a pair of light blue jeans, her thumbs tucked into the pockets, her blond hair was tucked behind her ears, flowing loosely down her back to well past her butt. She looked like she belonged there, instead of out of place. She'd become something of a tomboy late in her life, and while she enjoyed working and training with the boys, she still managed to look beautiful and feminine doing it.

"I knew I'd find you here," Guinevere, his little sister, said from somewhere behind him. It was an old game between them, a mix of tag and "Marco Polo". She would hide somewhere in a room, and he was supposed to stand in the middle and try to find her without moving, only through changes in the direction and volume of her voice. He knew she tried to throw him off, but he always found her, no matter where she hid or how softly she spoke.

"Why are you looking for me this time, _piccola?_" he asked in reply, closing his eyes to spread his senses out as Dusty had taught him. "Did Electron get out again?"

"No, not this time," she answered from somewhere off to his left and above him. She moved like a ghost through the room, her passage totally silent.

"Then why?"

"Mama sent me to find you," she told him, now off to his right and lower than she had been before. She was fast, he admitted, and she rarely made a sound when she moved. He wasn't sure which of their parents she'd gotten it from, or if she'd picked it up from one of the others, but he never really gave it a moment's thought. He could move just as quietly as she when he chose, sometimes even more silently than any except Dusty and Keith.

"Third staircase on the left, little sister," he called out, hearing the brush of her clothes on a bookcase and the slight creak of the stairs. He chuckled when her muttered curse reached him. "Don't let Mama hear you say that, Gwen." He opened his eyes and lifted a brow when he saw that she'd come to stand in front of him. "You keep forgetting that the second stair squeaks."

"I'm too short to reach the third one, Barack," she retorted with a glare, obviously envious of his height.

"Then use one of the other staircases," he suggested, tugging a strand of obsidian hair that had come loose from her braid. If he had a favorite among his siblings, Gwen was it, and had been from the moment she'd been born six years ago. She was tall for her age, having inherited both Dusty and Lance's height. Guinevere had also been blessed with Dusty's build and grace, and she had Lance's eyes. He knew they often changed color with her mood, as their mother's did.

Morganna had come along two years after Gwen, quiet and often shy, the complete opposite of their parents, with Caine and Alan, identical twins, following a year later. Mallory Igraine, the youngest at two, had been nicknamed Maggie by Uncle Pidge and it had stuck, and no one knew just why it had.

"They don't squeak," he went on, swinging her onto his back. He was still young enough to play with the younger children, but he was fast approaching the age where he'd soon see it as beneath him, secretly delighting in it, and in teasing his brothers and sisters. "Try it next time."

"I'll think about it," she replied, obviously mulling it over, and holding on tight to him as he started walking.

"By the way, why is Mama looking for me?"

"She's not, not really," Gwen admitted with a giggle, "she just _told_ me to look for you." He sighed, trying to sound exasperated but he ruined it with a laugh.

"You were bugging her again, weren't you?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at her. "Peppering her with questions, I imagine."

"Can we play outside today, Barack?" She looked out one of the windows they passed, and sighed. No matter how much fun it was to play their game inside, she _really_ wanted to play outside today. It had been raining steadily for three days, and they'd all been stuck inside the whole time.

"Sorry, Gwen, it's still too wet outside," her brother replied, shaking his head a little. "I know it's hard to stay inside, but you can get sick when you play in the rain."

"It never stops Mama," she grumbled, and Barack recognized the start of a serious snit in her tone.

"It works different when you grow up, I think," he said thoughtfully, patting her leg absently as he walked with no particular destination in mind. "While it would you or me sick, it makes Mama happy to stand in the rain."

"I suppose," she agreed reluctantly, shrugging her shoulders a little. Barack lapsed into silence, letting her peculiar brand of logic work on that one for a little while. "Barack?"

"What is it?" he asked as he stopped, caught by her tone.

"Someone's coming," she answered in a shaking whisper. "Someone who shouldn't be here."

"Who, _piccola_?" She shook her head, burying her face in his neck. _Mama,_ he called along their private mental path.

_I feel it, too,_ she replied quickly. _Go to your brothers and sisters, Barack, and keep them safe. I'll look into this._

_Yes, Mama,_ he answered, and tightened his grip on Gwen as he started to run through the halls. "Are the others in the playroom, Gwen?" She nodded, not lifting her head, and he felt her quiver just once. His own stomach clenched in fear now. Gwen was rarely scared of anything, but he knew that she was terrified of this new threat, whatever it was. "We'll be ok, little one," he panted as he ran, taking every shortcut he dared, knowing he had to reach the other kids fast. "Mama, Dad, and the others will keep us safe."

_Not this time._ He didn't know if the statement came from Gwen or from his conscience, but he felt the ring of truth in the words. Skidding around a corner, Gwen clinging tightly to his back, he burst into the playroom, relieved to see the others were still there, almost exactly as he'd left them a little while ago.

"Gwen ok?" Maggie asked, looking up from her blocks when the door opened. "Gwen all right?"

"Yeah, Maggie," Barack replied, letting Gwen down. She clung to his hand when he turned to shut the door and lock it behind them. "You ok, Maggie?"

"Yes," she answered with a sunny smile, turning back to her blocks. Caine and Alan looked up for a moment, and Morganna stopped coloring when Barack pushed his free hand through his hair. They could tell something was up, just as Gwen and Barack could, but didn't know exactly what it was. He sent them a look, a single glance reassuring them that everything was all right, and they were safe. _For now,_ he added silently to himself, sitting in the center of the room with Gwen cradled in his lap.

Calling a book to him from across the room, he read to her, keeping her calm and using his voice to keep the others quiet. It was something he'd felt Mama use more than once, not only on them but on other grown ups when she had to, and he copied it as best as he could now.

He'd wait with them until Mama sounded the all clear, keeping his family safe and entertained all day if necessary. Barack hoped it wouldn't be, and he knew, with the confidence belonging to the young, that his Mama could- and would- do anything to keep them safe.

**AN**: Whew! What an opening chapter, huh? My heart was pounding and my hands slid off the keyboard more than once with that one. Just who or what is this new threat? Read and Review, please.


	2. Old Ghosts?

**Disclaimer:** Voltron and all the characters contained therein aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for a little bit. I'll try and give them back in the same condition I got them in. The only characters I _do_ own are mine, and I won't share them!

**AN:** Terribly sorry it took me so long to update, folks. I've been really busy looking for a job, a car and moving into a new house. I've also been working on another story with a friend of mine, and it's been going really well, so everything else was pushed back for a bit. Well, here we go again!

Arus: Castle of Lions 

Dusty sent Proton, Neutron and Electron through the halls to find the intruder, while she sat, her head leaning back against the wall and her eyes closed, sending her senses through the castle. _There's the playroom,_ she whispered to herself, knowing that all six of her children were safe inside. Barack knew of the secret passage behind the fireplace, and would take his brothers and sisters out of danger if necessary. After going through the castle twice, from top to bottom, she couldn't find any trace of the intruder. She opened her eyes and looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. _Find anything, Lance?_

_Nothing, Duster,_ he replied, shaking his head.

_Keith, how about you?_ she called, wondering just what was going on here.

_Sorry, Dusty,_ he answered with a shrug. _I haven't seen, heard or _felt_ anything since you spread the word that we had a problem._

_Thanks, anyway, Keith,_ she sighed, getting to her feet. _What about you, kittens? Anything at all on your end?_

_Nothing,_ Proton said right away, and Dusty could feel her familiar's frustration. She knew something was up, just as Dusty, Barack and Gwen did, but there wasn't a single clue to what it might be. Neutron sent back the same report: nothing.

_The mice haven't seen, heard, or smelled anyone new,_ Electron told her, _and neither have I. This is strange, Dusty._

_Yes, kitten, it is,_ she replied, shoving a hand through her hair as it rapidly changed color in her agitation. _I'm going to talk to the kids, see if they still feel it._

_Want me to come with you?_ Lance asked, making her smile at the concern in his tone.

_Not now,_ she told him, _and maybe I'll be able to feel what Gwen did._

_All right._

_Aside from all that,_ doushenka,_ you know I'll tell you everything later._

_All right,_ he answered with a sigh. _Calm down before you go in, will you? You'll scare the kids._ She laughed, and most of the tension drained away, but there was still enough left to make a headache throb at the base of her skull. This wasn't going to be pleasant . . . at all. Heaving another sigh, she left the control room and went to speak to her children.

_It hadn't been easy to slip into the castle, even for one of his skills. Remaining hidden while Dusty, her familiars and friends searched the rooms and halls had been harder than he'd anticipated, but they'd called off the search sooner than he'd expected. Heaving a quiet sigh of relief, he stepped out of the supply closet he'd hidden in, and made his way out of the castle again. Now that he had a way in, he could always come back later, and get what he wanted from them. It would take a little longer than he'd planned, but patience was a quality he had in spades. He could- and had- lay in wait for days in one spot for a clear shot at his target, and this time would be no different._

Once outside, he lifted his face to the rain, letting it cool his overheated skin before making his way to a small cabin a few miles from the castle. It had been empty, left to fall into disrepair, for more than ten years before his arrival. Rumored by nearby villagers to be haunted by angry ghosts, no one dared come anywhere near it . . . except him. It was perfect for his purposes for now. He'd move on before too much longer, in any case, with exactly what he wanted in hand.

Closing and locking the door behind him, he sat down at a simple wood table to make some modifications to his plans. Everything would be perfect. While he couldn't prepare for every eventuality, he would think of as many as he could before going back. He hadn't expected the children to be so powerful, as young as they were, but realized that he shouldn't have expected less of Dusty's offspring.

There was potential there, and only needed the right incentive to bring their full powers to the surface. He would simply provide that incentive, he told himself with a humorless smile, and then would sit back and watch the fireworks. It was going to be glorious.

Barack sensed his mother outside the playroom door, but instead of opening it to her as he longed to do, he gripped Gwen, asleep in his lap, a little tighter and subtly shifted on the floor of the playroom, keeping himself between the door and his brothers and sisters. _Mama?_

_It's me,_ a chroi, she replied immediately, making his shoulders sag in relief. She only used Gaelic endearments when she was worried about them, and this time he didn't mind that she'd called him "darling". The lock clicked and as the door slid open, she stepped into the playroom, neatly avoiding a pile of toys that had yet to make it back into the toy box. Lifting an eyebrow at them, she asked, "Was it really only yesterday that we cleaned this place up?"

"Mama, Mama!" Maggie squealed, leaving her tower of blocks teetering behind her as she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, arms held up to Dusty. Leaning down, Dusty caught her and tossed her into the air, making her laugh delightedly, before catching her and settling her onto her hip as Cain, Alan, and Morganna deserted their own games to throw their arms around her. Barack remained where he was, and only because Gwen was sprawled across his lap, or he would have done the same.

Leaning down to Gwen, he whispered in her ear and her eyes fluttered open a moment later. "Sorry, Barack," she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep. "I guess I took a nap on you."

"I didn't mind, _piccola_," he answered, lifting her to set her on her feet. She stayed beside him as he stood, holding her hand out for his once he was on his own feet. He took it and gave her little hand a little squeeze, all the while keeping his gaze on Dusty. What is it? he asked, seeing something in her eyes he couldn't quite understand.

We didn't find anyone in the castle, Barack, she told him, shaking her head a little. "No hug for me, Gwen?" she wondered aloud, smiling at her oldest daughter and with a mother's skill for juggling, managed to free one arm for her. Gwen rushed to her side and buried her face in her shoulder when she lifted her onto her other hip. _ What's the matter, sweetheart?_

_He's still here, Mama,_ she said, her voice shaking just a little. _He's not in the castle anymore, but he's still here._

"Snuggle Barack?" Dusty asked Maggie, who nodded immediately and reached out her arms to her brother, who took her and cradled her in his arms.

"Snuggle Barack," she murmured sleepily, dropping her head to his shoulder as her favorite stuffed dog came floating across the room at her call.

"Snuggle Maggie," Barack replied with a chuckle, dropping a kiss on top of her head. "Sleepy Maggie." Accepting his role as a pillow for now, he wandered to the window seat on the other side of the room and settled Maggie on his lap, rocking ever so slightly back and forth.

_Can you show me, Gwen?_ Dusty asked when Morganna, Cain and Alan left them to sit with Barack and Maggie, all of them yawning and fighting to stay awake. _Show me how you felt._ Dusty waited, letting Gwen make the decision to share with her or not. After a long moment, Gwen lifted her head, took Dusty's face in her hands and looked into her eyes, Gwen's own taking on a very pale green color as she shared what she'd felt in the halls. Dusty could only describe it as feeling hunted by something she couldn't see, only sense, and knowing that the hunter was so much faster and stronger than its intended prey.

_He scares me, Mama,_ Gwen whispered, burying her face in her neck. Dusty tightened her arms protectively around her, wondering how she was going to solve this particular problem. Her stomach clenched and her heart wanted to pound in fear for her children, but she refused to let it for the moment. Calling on every ounce of control she had, she pushed the fear and panic aside so she could think more clearly about the problem.

_We'll take care of it, baby,_ she murmured reassuringly as she rested her brow on Gwen's head and closed her eyes, even though she wasn't sure how. Sleep was going to be a distant memory for a while: though she'd had many in her time, times when one or more of the children had been sick or fretful, she wanted this problem solved and quickly for the sake of her children. It wasn't going to be easy, but she'd call in every favor ever owed if she had to keep this intruder from harming them in any way she could.

Lifting her head, she looked over at Barack and smiled at the pained grimace he sent her way. Cain was sandwiched between him and Alan, Morganna on his other side and Maggie settled contentedly in his lap, her stuffed dug cuddled in one arm, the other wrapped around Barack's neck, her little fingers tangled in his hair. "Look who's a pillow," she said with a chuckle to Gwen.

"Where's a camera?" Gwen wondered with an impish giggle, turning but not lifting her head. Barack shook his head a little, his eyes promising retribution of they tried it.

"Help me," he mouthed to them, hardly daring to shift under the pile to ease legs that were quickly falling asleep. Dusty and Gwen shared a distinctly female look before Gwen slid down and gently eased Maggie off his lap and into her arms. Laughing softly at his predicament, Dusty scooped Alan up first before lifting Cain. Barack sighed in relief, shifted around a little and lifted Morganna into his arms. Thankfully, it was a short walk to their rooms from the playroom, and none of them so much as twitched as they settled them into bed for their afternoon naps.

"I think Pidge has a new encryption for you, Gwen," Dusty said casually, tucking the twins into bed, their identical bears between them. "He promised that this one is much harder than the last one he gave you."

"He said that last time, too," Gwen replied, shrugging as she settled Maggie on the daybed. "It took me two days to break the last one. Why can't I have one of your encryptions, Mama?"

"I'm terrified you'll break them overnight," she answered with a laugh, ruffling her hair a little. "Then where would I be?" She looked down at Gwen thoughtfully, a small smile hovering around her lips. "Tell you what, Gwen. If you break Pidge's encryption in, let's say, one day, I'll ask Nicolas to send you one."

"Really?" Nicolas's encryptions rivaled her mother's in complexity and difficulty, and she only got one or two a month for about the last year. It usually took her that long to crack them, but she was slowly getting better at them, and Mama told her speed would come with time and practice.

"Really, and if you want, I'll ask him to make it extra hard for you." Her little girl loved the challenge hacking offered, and Dusty wasn't above using it to distract her from their intruder for a while. The fact that Gwen loved hacking had bothered her until she saw how happy she was as she worked her way through encryptions, passwords, and files. Where she'd picked it up was anyone's guess, but Lance and Dusty felt that each of their children should explore their talents, and find what made them happiest. For Gwen, even as young as she was, it was computers: how they worked, what made them work better, and how best to get into things that were sometimes better left alone.

"Thanks, Mama!" Gwen said, throwing her arms around Dusty's legs and laughing in delight. "I'll go see him right now!" She was out the door and down the corridor before it closed behind her.

"What is it, Mama?" Barack asked quietly as they followed Gwen out more slowly. "There was something you didn't want to say in front of Gwen and the others, wasn't there?" Dusty sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Sometimes, Barack, you're too perceptive," she replied, running her free hand through her hair, "but yes, there was." She paused, wondering just how much to tell him and how much to leave out, and decided it was best to tell him all of it. "Gwen shared what she felt with me, and it wasn't good. It was like being hunted, and knowing that no matter how far or how fast you ran, you still couldn't escape."

"She's so rarely afraid of anything," Barack murmured, looking down at his feet for a moment, "but she was terrified of whoever it was that got into the castle. She was too scared to tell me what it was at the time, but other than feeling there was danger close by, I didn't feel anything." They were quiet for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, both trying to figure out what was happening.

"I know you're getting a little old to babysit your brothers and sisters, Barack," she told him, capturing his gaze with her own when he looked up at her, "but I'd like you to keep a close eye on them for a while."

"Of course, Mama," he answered with a nod, because he had been about to suggest the very thing. If anyone else, even Uncle Keith or Aunt Allura, spent more time with them than was normal, the younger ones would realize that something was up, if they didn't already. So far, only Cain, Alan and Morganna had seemed to forget the incident entirely, while Maggie had been blissfully unaware of anything out of the ordinary.

"A blessing of the young," she said softly, making him start guiltily when she spoke, revealing that he'd been broadcasting his thoughts without knowing it. Though he wasn't technically a NightWalker, he'd been in training to be one since he'd first come to Dusty. Everything in that training demanded that he learned to keep his thoughts to himself, unless it was an emergency, and to keep his emotions, temper and powers under control. A slip like that could get a NightWalker discovered or killed, and in their present situation, such a slip could land them all in serious trouble.

"Sorry, Mama."

"Just don't let it happen again, Barack."

"I won't."

Later that night, after the entire castle lay quiet, Dusty was awake in the control room, Lance yawning behind her chair. "Duster, it's likely just past dawn on Earth," he complained, scrubbing his face before shoving his hands through his hair. "Are you sure Nicolas is even awake?"

"If he's not," Dusty said, her fingers flying over the keys, "then he'll be in for a tongue-lashing I'll deliver in person." Lance leaned one elbow on the chair and tilted her face to his with his other hand.

"I'd love to be there for that," he told her, grinning down at her. "Do you think I could sell tickets?" She laughed and gave his hand a squeeze, her other hand not missing a key.

"You'd probably only sell them to Julian, Gregori and Lucian," she replied, looking back at the screen for a moment. "They'd pay good money to see him taken down a peg or twelve."

"Oh, to watch and hear a lecture delivered by the first NightWalker that isn't- thankfully- directed at me for once," he chuckled, thrilled with the idea, not noticing how his wife's eyes narrowed a little at something on the screen.

"Let's get into that later, doushenka," she answered, resting a cheek on his arm for a moment before gently easing away.

"Dusty," Nicolas greeted her, nodding to Lance. "What is it? You haven't used that code in years."

"I haven't needed it in years, Nicolas," she replied, leaning back in her chair. She dropped her head to hide her expression, but not her fight for composure, from him, for a moment before she lifted it again. "Something's stirring here, and I need some help."

"How many do you need and when do you need them?" His instant and unqualified support had her smiling internally, and though she let the relief show in her eyes, she shook her head.

"Not that kind of help, my friend," she assured him, "but the offer is appreciated."

"You know you just have to send word, Dusty. We'll be there."

"I know that. However, I need you guys to do a little digging for me."

"You got it," he told her when she finished outlining her needs and her reasons.

"I'll leave you to it, then," she said, before she smiled. "By the way, Gwen wants another encryption."

"I'm running out, Dusty," he chuckled good-naturedly, shaking his head. "You want me to step it up a level for her?"

"Better make it two, Nicolas," she replied, her smile turning to a sly grin, "just to keep her on her toes."

"All right," he answered with a long-suffering sigh, "though why you let her work on these things is beyond me."

"You could make her day and bring it yourself," she drawled, and Lance had to look away to hide his smile, knowing the look on her face was the one that could even make Keith shake.

"Is that an order?"

"Just a friendly suggestion."

"That's just downright mean, Dusty." Lance knew, from the tone of his voice, that he'd be joining them in a day or two. No one contradicted Dusty for long, least of all her NightWalkers.

"You know how much she loves it when you visit," Dusty retorted, shrugging one shoulder as she got to her feet. Nicolas muttered something under his breath that Lance didn't catch, but Dusty obviously did, as she leaned her hands on the control panel in front of her and, glaring at the screen, began a rapid lecture in what Lance could only guess was Russian or possibly German. Either way, Lance had no idea what was said, but it was clear that Nicolas did.

The dressing down lasted for at least fifteen minutes, and Lance watched as Nicolas blanched, blushed and tried to interrupt by turns, but Dusty didn't let him get a word in, hardly stopping for breath. "Am I quite understood?" she finished, straightening and crossing her arms across her chest.

"Yes, ma'am," Nicolas muttered, looking down at his feet for a moment. "I'll be there, around sunset local time."

"See that you are. You don't want me to come looking for you."

"No, Dusty." Dusty cut communications and wasn't surprised when Lance wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Come on, Dusty," he murmured, tightening his hold when she leaned into him. "Let's go to bed." She purred a little as his hands wandering her body, starting little fires under her skin.

"I haven't heard a better idea all night." She turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. "Fair warning, though: neither one of us is going to get much sleep tonight."

"That's one of the things I love about you, Duster." He smiled at her. "You're absolutely insatiable."

**AN:** This seemed like as good a place as any to stop. Sorry, guys. So close, huh? Unfortunately, they have more important things to worry about right now. Again, I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. It stalled for a while with everything that was going on around here, but things have settled down a little, leaving me time to finish it.


	3. Phases of the Moon

**Disclaimer:** Yet again, I STILL DON'T OWN IT! Can I _please_ stop typing this out now? How many more times and in how many more ways can I say that I don't own it and never will?

**AN:** Whew! What a chapter huh? Now that most of the groundwork has been set down, it's time to move the plot along a little, and give everyone a little something to think about.

Forest around Castle of Lions 

High in a tree, in the shape of a small screech owl, Dusty waited, her mind carefully blocked and her emotions tamped down. No leak of either thoughts or feelings would betray her as she waited to find out what was happening. Something had told her to come to the dilapidated cabin, and aside from the slight rustling from the small creatures under her tree, all was quiet. Too _quiet,_ she thought to herself, looking up at the moon for a moment, a shining silver ball in the black velvet sky, pierced by millions of stars.

Her vision reduced to black and white by her form, she fluffed her feathers against the slight chill and kept her lonely vigil of the cabin. Long minutes passed with no human movement inside the cabin or out, and it wasn't until a herd of deer wandered through the clearing that she caught a glint of moonlight off metal inside the cabin through a window. She didn't dare probe the area in case whoever was in the cabin would feel it and run, or do something desperate. Holding completely still, she kept her large yellow eyes focused on the window, hoping to see more, possibly even catching a glimpse of the person occupying the place.

After more than an hour's watching, there was nothing more. She lifted her wings in preparation to lift off and head back to the castle when a large shadow detached itself from a tree toward the back of the cabin, moving silently toward the castle. Lifting off, she circled the clearing and dropped toward the ground, landing lightly, silently on four paws. Black as pitch, the wolf followed the shadow, the hunter becoming the hunted.

The faint scent she followed was familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd caught it before . . . yet. Given enough time, she could place it, but she didn't think she had that kind of time. She could smell gun oil, metal, a faint hint of gunpowder and, with a deep sniff, just the barest hint of cologne and cigarette smoke.

Her lips curling in a silent snarl, she moved swiftly and silently through the forest until she was ahead of the intruder. Turning to watch the intruder approach, perfectly hidden in the shadow of a large oak, she realized she couldn't clearly see his face. Shifting into a leopard for the better night vision, his outline became clearer, but his face remained a mystery.

She kept pace with him, never letting him get more than five strides ahead or behind her. When they were within a mile of the castle, the air rippled as Gwen sensed the intruder's return and woke from a deep sleep, calling for her, desperately seeking comfort and protection from this unknown threat.

Dusty had to fight her mother's instinct to return to her children and protect them, closing her eyes briefly as she fought to keep her shields and barriers up. It was a fast, furious fight, but she tamped it down, barely managing to keep from reaching out to Gwen to soothe her. Controlling the maternal instincts of the leopard was just as hard, but was also overcome.

The intruder sensed Gwen's alarm as well, and came to a dead stop. Dusty froze in place, belly to the ground, one paw lifted as though to take another step, and kept the intruder in sight. He chuckled, an evil, inhuman sound that sent a chill down her spine, and turned, throwing his profile into relief for just a moment. _Oh, Bastet,_ she thought, deep inside the form of the leopard. He went back the way he came, leaving Dusty to either follow or go back to the castle and her children. She hesitated, pulled in two directions.

Heaving a sigh, because it was really no contest, she turned to the castle, keeping a wary eye out for pursuit from behind her. There was none, but she didn't break cover until she was closer to the castle and the trees thinned to be sure. Turning to place the castle protectively behind her, she roared, challenging- no, _daring_- the intruder to harm her children while she guarded them.

_That's enough, Duster,_ Lance said, speaking quietly, soothingly into her mind. She snarled bad-temperedly at him, almost wishing she'd followed the intruder and taken a slice out of him. _Gwen won't calm down until you come see her, _doushenka. _There's nothing more you can do tonight. Come inside, now, and leave it be for a while._

_I'm coming,_ she replied with a sigh as tension of a different kind filled her. Before turning to go inside, she sent a quiet request to all the wolf packs in the area that they were to alert her if someone smelling like the intruder came within three miles of the castle, avoiding any food he might leave out for them. After receiving affirmative replies from all five packs, she shifted once more to her human form and disappeared inside, leaving the packs as one line of defense outside.

She sensed the moment the other children woke, Gwen's distress now so loud that it was impossible to ignore, and sighed, knowing she had a long night in store. It wouldn't be the last, either, but she'd handle it . . . how, she wasn't yet sure.

How entertaining!_ he thought to himself with a chuckle as he returned to the cabin once more, the challenge still echoing in his head and his ears. It seemed that instead of rushing to the aid of her children, Dusty had come outside to find the source of their fear. While he commended her on it, he was already thinking of ways he could use it to his advantage. Dusty wasn't one to make the same . . . mistake twice, but things were going to get _very_ interesting in the next little while. He couldn't wait to get started on his part in it._

Castle of Lions 

Dusty ducked a flying book, and only sighed when a teddy bear bounced off her shoulder. Lance was with the twins and Morganna, and Barack had Maggie, leaving her to deal with Gwen alone. "That's enough, Guinevere," she said softly, firmly, as she stepped into the room. "He's gone, now."

_He's_ not! Gwen cried, burying her face in her arms where they rested on her drawn up knees. _He's still here!_

_I know where he is, _leannan, Dusty replied, dodging around other flying objects to sit at the foot of her daughter's bed. The sheets were tangled around her legs and one of the two pillows had fallen to the floor, mute testimony to Gwen's terror. _He'll not sneak in here again._

_He_ could,_ Mama,_ she told her, lifting her head and Dusty was stunned to see tears running down her face. Longing to reach out, but knowing Gwen didn't want to be touched just yet, Dusty felt tears gathering in her own eyes. Her little Gwen was an independent child, and preferred to work things out on her own. It wasn't that she didn't know how to ask for help, far from it: she rarely needed it, but knew when to ask for it. _He could hurt you and Dad, Uncle Keith and Aunt Allie, and everyone else. He won't stop, Mama._

_Mama?_ Barack called quietly from the door as the objects that had been flying around the room froze then dropped to the carpet. _Is everything all right? Did that man come back?_

_Yes,_ she answered with a sigh, not taking her eyes off of Gwen, who was staring intently at her tangled quilt and was making a pattern with one fingertip on it. Dusty recognized it as an ancient symbol of protection against evil, and barely managed to keep her surprise from broadcasting. _Don't worry so much,_ Astalder, she said to Gwen alone after a moment, _I wouldn't let him hurt you._ Gwen nodded, but didn't look up. _Do you want your dad or me to stay with you?_

_I'm not a baby, Mama,_ Gwen replied, looking back up at her mother with a stubborn look in her eyes. Dusty controlled the urge to smile.

_Then how about Barack stays with you for a while?_ she asked, reaching out to dry the tears that were still on her cheeks. Gwen leaned into her hand for a moment, drawing strength and comfort before pulling away.

_Just until I fall asleep again,_ Gwen said with a sigh, resignation heavy in her tone, as if she was only making this concession to make her mother happy. Dusty lips twitched and she could hear Lance's laugh in her head, making it increasingly difficult to keep her own laughter inside. She turned to the door, and looked surprised to see Barack already there. "Look at how quick he was!"

"You knew I was here, Mama," Barack pointed out as he stepped into the room, a flick of his wrist sending the objects scattered on the floor to their proper places.

"I did not!" she objected, calling one book from the air into her hands and passing it to Gwen. "Make him read that to you, Gwen. Call me if he doesn't do the voices for you."

"I will, Mama," she replied with a small smile, finally settled enough to speak aloud again.

"By the way, sweetie, I have a surprise for you coming tomorrow," Dusty commented casually as she crossed the room to the door, winking at Barack as they passed each other. "You'd better get some more sleep, _a chroi._"

"What is it?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

"I'll still act surprised," she promised, settling against Barack's side when he sat with her on the bed.

"You'll just have to see, Gwen," Dusty chuckled and left, the door on Gwen peppering Barack with questions about the surprise.

"What is it?" Lance asked, joining her in the hall and wrapping an arm around her waist. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "That bad, huh?"

"It doesn't get much worse, _A'maelamin,_" she replied, turning into his arms to lean on his strength. "This isn't going to be easy."

"Nothing ever is," he commented and felt her smile a little against his chest.

"Everyone back to sleep?"

"Except Barack and Gwen," he confirmed, resting his cheek on top of her head, loving the feel of the silky strands on his skin.

"Good." She snuggled for a moment longer before reluctantly pulling away. "I've got some calls to make."

"Do you want some company?"

"I'd love some."

When Nicolas arrived the next morning, he saw that Dusty was waiting to meet him, Gwen and Barack with her, and Gwen's eyes were covered. Lifting an eyebrow at Dusty in question, he descended the ramp, keeping quiet at Dusty's gesture. He took a moment to study her, seeing the ravages of a sleepless night on her face. _What happened, Dusty?_

_We'll get into that later, my friend,_ she answered, casting a warning glance at her children. _Did you bring it?_

_I worked on it during the trip,_ he replied with a nod and a small smile. _It'll keep her busy for a while._ Dusty returned his smile.

"All right, Gwen," she said, bending to whisper in her ear, "you can take the blindfold off, now."

"Uncle Nick!" Gwen cried after her eyes adjusted to the light, running across the tarmac to throw herself at one of her favorite people in the universe. He tossed his duffel bag to Dusty, caught Gwen and tossed her into the air, making her squeal with delight.

"Surprise, Gwen!" She laughed and flung her arms around his neck when he caught her, kissing both his cheeks before tucking her head against his shoulder. "You've grown again, squirt," he observed, comical surprise on his face. "You'll be too big for me to toss around if you keep growing like this."

"I'd swear she grows an inch a day," Dusty laughed, setting his duffel at her feet. "She'll be taller than me soon if she keeps growing like that."

"Will not!" Gwen objected with a smile, locking her legs around Nicolas' waist and hanging upside down, her hair brushing the concrete.

"Will so, half-pint," Nicolas chuckled, easily supporting her weight. "Especially if you keep hanging upside down like that. It stretches you out."

"Is that was makes Mama so tall?" Gwen wondered, her face turning pink as she looked up at Nicolas. "Hanging upside down like this?"

"I hang upside down from my toes like a bat, Gwen" Dusty haughtily informed her, crossing her arms over her chest. "I stretched to be this tall by the time I was twelve."

"Really, Mama?"

"Naturally."

_Hello, Barack,_ Nicolas said, looking him straight in the eye. Despite the years between them, Nicolas had always treated him as an equal, and not just because he was Dusty's. As young as he'd been when he'd come to the Peak, he'd lived alone for an entire year after escaping from the doctor, with no one, NightWalker, civilian or government authorities, aware of his existence. Having spent all his young life being tortured by the doctor, he managed to escape at six, and made it to Mars before Gregori found him, quite by accident, while looking for O'Brian.

_How've you been, Uncle Nicolas?_ Barack asked in reply, nodding respectfully to him. He'd always felt a bit of hero worship with Nicolas, and suspected he always would. Nicolas had been the first _official_ NightWalker: his mother, on the other hand, carried the title because she'd gathered them all together, trained and watched over them, even when she had supposedly been out of touch with the universe.

_Well enough,_ he answered with a chuckle and a pained glance at Dusty, making Barack realize why he was here.

_I see._ Barack sighed and shook his head a little. _It all comes together._

_Most of it, at least,_ Nicolas laughed, flipping Gwen over his arm, setting her gently on her feet. "Look at that, Gwen," he said aloud with a smile, "you've already grown again."

"You have something for me, don't you, Uncle Nick?" Gwen asked, not rising to his bait this time. She tilted her head, the same way Dusty did when she was intrigued or amused, and studied him out of eyes that had turned sapphire blue.

"Of course, I do. I know it's in here somewhere," he replied, patting his pockets as if searching for her present. When he came up empty, he took Gwen's hand and led her to his duffel bag, crouching next to her to search through it. "Hmm, maybe it's in my duffel bag. I sure hope I didn't forget it."

"You wouldn't forget," Gwen assured him, helping him look through the bag. He let her find the disk with the encryption on it, two levels more advanced than she was used to per Dusty's request. "A new encryption!"

"It's a _lot_ harder than the others," he warned her, closing his bag and tossing it over his shoulder as he got to his feet, "and nothing like the others. You're on your own, kiddo. Good luck."

"Thanks, Uncle Nick," she said when her mother spoke her name in the tone he was sure all mothers developed during the hormonal changes of gestation, the one guaranteed to get their children's attention.

"You're welcome, Gwen," he answered, keeping the smile from his face, but he knew it lit his eyes when she smiled in reply.

"Can I go now, Mama?" Dusty nodded.

"Go ahead, Gwen." No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Gwen was tearing across the tarmac for the castle, stopping once to wave before disappearing inside. "You're so good with her."

"She makes it easy," Nicolas replied with a shrug. "She's an appealing handful."

"He knows, Nicolas," Dusty said in answer to his lifted brow, putting a hand on Barack's shoulder. "We _could_ talk about this in front of him," she went on, making Barack look up at her with barely concealed exasperation, "but we're not going to."

"But, Mama--"

"Barack." He stopped, shoving a hand through his hair while valiantly suppressing his frustration. "I need you to keep an eye on your brothers and sisters." She paused, one eyebrow lifted as a glint came to her eye that both of them knew was dangerous, "Of course, you could always spend the next week on kitchen duty with Nanny." Nicolas turned away, pretending to study the nearby forest: if it were a choice between KP or dish duty with Allura's dragon of a governess, he'd take the KP any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

"Yes, Mama," Barack murmured, wisely giving in. _He's no fool,_ Nicolas thought to himself, grinning internally as he listened to him move off.

"Dusty, what's going on around here?" he asked, turning back once Barack was well out of earshot. "You look like hell."

"Well, thank you, Nicolas," she replied sweetly, the dangerous look still in her eye. "I worked really hard at it just for you."

"I'm not one of your children to be protected, Dusty."

"I know that, Nico," she told him, visibly fighting for control now that they were alone, "and I appreciate your doing so just then."

"Tell me what's happening," he said calmly, in direct opposition to her near shout, "and I'll keep doing it if you ask me to."

_Easy, Duster,_ Lance broke in, reaching for her the instant he knew she was losing her tenuous grip on her temper. _You'll start affecting the weather in a minute._ She leaned on him for a moment, letting him absorb and redirect the energy that was pumping off of her in almost visible waves. She closed her eyes and he waited almost ten minutes before she opened them again.

"Let's go inside." Calmer now, she turned to go back inside and he fell in beside her. They were almost inside when she stopped so suddenly he went two steps passed her without realizing it. When he stopped, turning to ask what was wrong, he felt the words stick in his throat and the bottom drop out of his stomach. She seemed frozen in place, a leopard about to pounce, but the look in her eyes was anything but frozen. He'd only seen her that angry once before, and he'd hoped never to see it again.

_Mama!_ Barack and Gwen shouted simultaneously, and even Nicolas heard the terror in their voices, their distress so loud that he felt it start to take over his own mind. Blocking it out was the hardest thing he'd ever done, and he fervently prayed that he'd never have to do it again. Dusty ran, almost knocking him over in her rush to get inside and to her children. Though he was fast, Nicolas was soon left behind. He lost sight of her around a corner and when he reached it, she was gone, already far ahead, but he knew where she was going.

The sky outside went completely black, bright blue lightning slamming to the ground and arcing from cloud to cloud while thunder shook the very foundations of the castle. Not even Lance could reach her and calm her now: she was blocking him out, her only thought to reach Barack and Gwen.

Breathing hard, he skidded to a stop outside the playroom door and leaned against the doorjamb to catch his breath. Dusty was already there, Gwen and Barack held fast and secure against her . . . but the twins, Maggie and Morganna weren't there. _Barack, what happened?_ Nicolas knew better than to ask Dusty that question just now.

_He was here, Uncle Nick,_ Gwen answered instead, sobbing into her mother's shoulder and his mind. _He took them!_

_Who did, _piccola?

_The one that was here before,_ she replied, looking up as Lance ran into the room and straight to them.

_I wouldn't try to stop her just yet, Lance,_ Nicolas warned, even though he knew it wasn't necessary.

_I . . . I tried to . . . to stop him, Uncle Nick,_ Barack broke in, lifting his tear-filled eyes to Nicolas, _but . . . something happened. I couldn't move, almost couldn't breathe._ He closed his eyes: Dusty'd asked him to watch over them, but he'd failed. He hadn't protected them and now they were gone.

_What happened next, Barack? Tell me._

_He had the twins under one arm,_ Barack went on, _the girls under the other. They looked like they were sleeping, but I know they weren't. He . . . he looked down at me, and . . . and smiled. His eyes were so cold, so hard and cruel. Before I could do anything, he just . . . disappeared, like he was never here._

"It's all right, Barack," Lance said quietly, taking him from Dusty and into his own arms. "You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough!"

"We'll get them back, son," he promised as Barack burrowed into the comfort of his father, as if trying to crawl inside him.

"He's right, Barack," Dusty replied, her voice calm, soothing for Barack and Gwen, but both Nicolas and Lance could read that the anger and fear for her children was still there. While the storm had abated for the moment. both men knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt that whomever had stolen Dusty's children from her, wouldn't live long to regret his mistake.

**AN:** Oh, boy, is this guy in for a _real_ big problem. I simply can't wait to see what happens next!

**Translations:**

A chroi: (Gaelic) my darling

Astalder: (Elvish) valiant one

A'maelamin: (Elvish) my beloved, beloved one

Doushenka: (Russian) my soul

Leannan: (Gaelic) sweetheart

Piccola: (Italian) little one


	4. Portents and Demands

**Disclaimer:** Do I really have to keep typing this out? We all know the drill, we all hate it, but I guess it has to be said. I don't own it and I never will. I'm not making any money off these stories, either. I'm just having a little fun with the original characters, and the ones I've created. (To my characters, I apologize for putting you through this and will resolve everything soon, I promise.)

Whew! That said, once again, let's move on to the story.

**AN:** Hmm. Who's the mysterious menace that has kidnapped Dusty's children and what will he do to them now that he has them? Can Dusty, Lance and Nicolas find them before it's too late, or will it be Barack and Gwen who save the day?

Forbidden Territory: Uncharted Planet 

_He used his considerable powers to keep Dusty's brats unconscious so they wouldn't give him away until he was ready. _Finally,_ the revenge he'd been planning for years would bring him everything he'd lost when Dusty had come into his life. It was only fitting that she paid for what she'd done, with her children as insurance. _She'd pay all right,_ he mused,_ and would do exactly as he said to get her children back unharmed._ It was going to be fun leading the first NightWalker around by the nose for a while before he got what he wanted from her._

Castle of Lions 

If it wasn't for Lance and Nicolas, Dusty knew the powerful emotions raging inside her would take form in the sky and devastate Arus, a storm the likes of which it had never seen before. Even the storm she'd caused eight years before would have seemed like a warm summer shower compared to this one. As it was, lightning still flashed in the distance, the occasional rumble of thunder reaching her. Proton, Neutron and Electron were with her, settled in her lap or draped across her shoulders as she sat on the roof of the castle.

She wanted to know who had infiltrated the castle on more that one occasion, had the unmitigated gall to steal her children out from under her nose, and make it back out with no one seeing him, and get them far enough away that she could barely sense them. It was an impressive technique, one she employed whenever she needed it, and taught to her NightWalkers as a basic tool for slipping in and out of a place unseen.

But when he'd turned last night, she realized that she'd seen his face before, only she couldn't remember where. Even the picture of him that Barack had shared with her only hours before made her think of someone she knew, but couldn't place. It couldn't be any of her NightWalkers, that much she knew . . . or did she? After the fiasco with Darius, she'd been more involved in what went on, even while she wasn't there, but she still didn't know everything that went on. _What am I going to do, kittens?_

_I don't know, Dusty,_ Proton replied sadly, rubbing her face against Dusty's for a moment in support. She'd never heard Dusty this upset before, not even when she'd agonized over her decision to tell everyone what she had been. It wasn't easy to listen to, and she didn't know if there was anything she could do for her, except be there and hope it would be enough. _The important thing is to get your kittens back._

How_ can I do that when I don't know who took them or where he went with them?_ Dusty wondered, looking up at the clouds that were shifting overhead like a pot of boiling water. _I challenged him, and he took me up on it, answering with one of his own. He took my children right out from under my nose and I couldn't do anything to stop him, or even slow him down._ She looked down at Neutron, curled in her lap like a fuzzy basketball and purring for all he was worth, trying to soothe her. _Barack is feeling guilty because he couldn't do anything, either._

_He's a child, Dusty,_ Electron put in, rubbing his head under her chin, _with a child's sense of guilt._ _The way he sees it is that you asked him to watch out for the younger ones and he failed at that. They were taken out from under his nose, too. His brothers and sisters were right there, but he couldn't do anything to help them._ He sighed and jumped down from her shoulder. _I'm going to go sit with him and Gwen for a while._

_Thank you, kitten,_ she answered, giving him a quick scratch and a rub. _I appreciate it._ She gave Neutron a nudge to get him off her lap before getting to her feet as Electron set off on his self-appointed task. "I'll be in the exercise room if anyone comes looking for me," she told the other two as she set Proton on her feet. They followed her down the stairs, parting at the bottom, off on some task they must have worked out between them and kept to themselves. It didn't matter for the moment: she was too focused on finding a way to get rid of at least some of the energy still spinning around inside her.

_I won't be getting any sleep for a while,_ she thought to herself, picking up a padded sword and, holding it with the pommel on the level of her chin, she advanced on a practice dummy. Lance and Nicolas found her there almost two hours later, dripping sweat and breathing hard, but they both knew she was focused on the dummy like it was a living target. She didn't turn to face them or even check her swing as she attacked the dummy again and again, moving so fast that they couldn't tell what moves she was using. Her last attack took her up and over the dummy, and would have left any human foe decapitated as she landed in a crouch, sword in both hands held off to one side, and one knee barely touching the floor.

"Remind me to ask Keith to spar with you, Dusty," Lance said, bringing her attention to him and Nicolas. "You're the only one I know who could give him a run for his money. The rest of us are useless when it comes to swords."

"I'll do that," she answered, slowly rising to her feet and tossing the sword back at the rack. It settled in place with a barely audible _clunk_ of wood hitting wood. "What's up?"

"There's a message," Nicolas began, knowing she wasn't going to like the contents. "Neither Lance nor I could read it, because we're pretty sure it's in a dead language. It's waiting for you in the control room."

"All right," she replied, wiping her face with a towel. "I suppose you're coming with us, Nico?"

"If you wish." She nodded, tossed the towel onto a pile of others destined for the laundry later that night, and led them out of the exercise room and into the control room. The message, displayed on the screen, was waiting. As predicted, it was in a language that had been dead for centuries, but one she could still read and translate with ease. "What is it?"

"Ancient Greek," she told them, surprised there was anyone outside the academic community who could still speak it, let alone write or read it. Whoever this person was, he wrote and spoke like a native, and that was interesting in and of itself. She muttered something under her breath as she read it, something neither of them understood, but from the tone it was far from complimentary. Her tone rose as she continued, far from civil and her expression growing blacker by the word. "And if he's still alive after that," she shouted in English, barely leashed power vibrating through her body and the room, "I'm going to--" She went on, obviously planning a long and gruesome death and an eternity in Hell for the man who had been stupid enough to steal her children. Outside, they heard the wind rise to a roar, not quite covering the crashes of thunder that rocked the castle once more.

"Dusty," Lance said quietly, stepping in front of her and catching her eyes with his, and ignored the lightning he could see in them, "you've got to calm down." She spat something at him in the language she'd been using for the last several minutes, and though he didn't understand it, he felt his ears burn. "Calm down before you bring the castle down around our ears."

"Stop, Dusty," Nicolas added from behind her, "and _think_ about this a minute." She wanted to whirl around and face him, but Lance was still holding her gaze in an unbreakable grip. "He wants you mad enough to make mistakes. Don't give him an opening."

"_Leannan_, please, settle down," Lance went on, not letting her look away from him. "Breathe deep, and think about this calmly. Nicolas has a point. If you're too upset to think straight, who knows what will happen?" Five tense minutes later, they finally managed to penetrate the red haze that had blocked them from her mind and together they managed to get her to think rationally once more. The wind stopped bellowing outside and the thunder once again moved away into the distance.

Dusty dropped her head, her chin touching her chest and her eyes closed, when Lance finally released her gaze. Taking deep breaths, she settled a little more before looking back up at the message. "Despite its length," she said calmly, though a brief shudder of rage and terror shook her, "the message itself is short."

"What does he want?" Lance asked, not sure he wanted to know. Whatever it was had sent her into an uncontrollable state, that it took both he and Nicolas working together to calm her down.

"Five of my most profitable companies, three of my more valuable properties, Brown Lion," she replied, scanning the message for what he wanted to know, "and me."

"What?"

"He says he'll trade the kids for me," she repeated, sparing Nicolas a quick glance before reading further. "If I don't want to come to him, I can turn myself over to the Border Patrol as Loran Morgan, or to Galaxy Garrison as Ciarrann. Either way, he'll bring the kids back."

"So, you can either turn yourself over to him," Lance stated, his own rage starting to burn at the temerity of this unknown assailant, "or spend the rest of your life in jail for crimes almost no one can prove."

"That's not all." She sighed, and turned away from the screen, the words burned into her memory. "If I turn myself over to the authorities, I'm to make a full, public confession for my crimes and stand trial. Once the trials were over, he'd bring the kids back to you, and only you." She shoved a hand through her hair, not realizing it had turned a deep, vibrant red. "Not only that, but I'd have to make restitution to all the families of the men and women I killed as Ciarrann, and for the all the smuggling I did as Loran. While it wouldn't empty my pockets, all of that would leave most of my companies seriously in the red, meaning layoffs, payroll and benefit cuts that a good portion of my employees can't afford."

"If you give him the companies, he could do the same," Nicolas pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest as she paced. "What's one of the properties he wants?"

"Raven's Peak," she replied and watched him go still, not a freezing type of stillness but one even more absolute, a predator holding perfectly steady so as not to frighten his prey. It wasn't a cold-blooded stillness but an elementally hot-blooded one, one she had no trouble interpreting. "NightWalkers, any and all pertinent information on who they are, where they are and what they can do included." Nicolas muttered under his breath, dire threats and dark promises of retribution.

All of them knew that when the other NightWalkers heard about this, there'd be no stopping them from starting their own hunt for this obviously insane person. He would, quite simply, disappear from the universe or they would come up with a very convincing story that would earn him a quick, quiet trial and swift execution. Either option was looking very promising to Dusty just then, but first, she had to find a way to get her children back.

"So now what?" Lance wanted to know, shoving a hand through his own hair. He didn't like their options, and this madman had left them with precious few.

"It gets better," Dusty said, stopping to face him, her hair shifting from red to blond, then a deep chestnut. "If we try to rescue the kids, without complying with any of his demands, he'll kill them, one by one, starting with Maggie, and start sending them back one piece at a time."

"Would he do it?"

"Without hesitation."

"Why hasn't he done it already?"

"Because if he did, he knows that I'd hunt him from one side of the universe to the other, no matter how long it took, and make his death and slow and painful as possible." She chuckled but there was no humor in it. "And he wants to humiliate and humble me first."

"Why?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," she answered with a shrug. She was tense, both men could see that, and she was hanging onto her control with an iron grip. It cost her- dearly- to talk about this so casually, but that was the only option left to her. They didn't want to think about what would happen if she didn't, and both of them knew they wouldn't be able to stop her if she lost control again.

"So what now?"

"He's given me three days to decide what option I'll take," she said, pacing again. Her hair went back to black and stayed that way. "After that, all bets are off." She stopped, one hand over her eyes, and sighed. "I want to rush headlong into this, kill him, get the kids and come back. If I do that, I'd kill us all."

"He took your children, Dusty," Nicolas murmured, feeling his heart twist in his chest from her pain and his own. He loved each of Dusty's children, and he knew the other NightWalkers felt the same. "You have no idea what's happening to them, or even where they are." He looked at Lance and saw the pain, fear and determination stamped on his face as well. Dusty wasn't the only parent in the room, but she was the more powerful of the two and her emotions were far more volatile than his. He knew that Lance wanted his children back and the man responsible punished, but he was setting his own feelings aside to help Dusty get through this with her sanity intact. "Did he say where to meet him or where to send a message when you've made your decision?"

"On a planet in the Forbidden Territories."

"All right," Nicolas replied with a slight nod, a plan already forming in his mind. He knew just whom he needed for this. "I need to make a few calls."

"Nicolas--"

"I won't do anything to harm your children, Dusty," he interrupted, holding up a hand to stop her. "You know that."

"Yes, I know." She sighed again and didn't notice the tears sliding down her cheeks. "I also know _you_. Don't do anything rash or give him any hint that you're onto him." He gave a mock snort of sorely abused dignity.

"I learned subtlety from the best, Dusty. He won't know I'm there until long after I'm gone, and most likely, not even then." She chuckled a little at that.

"Just be careful, my friend. That's all I ask."

"I will." He left the control room to start laying the groundwork for his plan, and for the moment, leaving Lance and Dusty to work out just which option they were going to take.

I don't like this, Dusty."

"I'm not fond of it, myself, _doushenka,_" she answered, leaning against a pillar. "I don't know if we'll be able to pull this off. It's going to be damn near impossible to approach undetected and even if we managed to land, we have no idea _exactly_ where he's got the kids."

"How well do you know the Forbidden Territories?"

"Probably better than anyone alive. Why?"

"I've got an idea."

Forbidden Territories, Uncharted Planet 

_He imagined Dusty was going crazy with that little message he'd sent her. The Ancient Greek was an inspired choice, if he did say so himself. The message itself had been easy to come up with, and translating it to Ancient Greek had only taken a little longer than he'd anticipated. Even with his gift for languages, it had taken time to learn it, and more time to translate his original message. Though sending it in English had been a thought, he'd wondered how Dusty would react when she saw it. He wished that he'd been there to see her face. She wouldn't tremble, or wail as other women were prone to do, but flying into a fit of anger was a very real possibility._

_Glancing down at the unconscious man at his feet, he heaved a resigned sigh. He was heavy and would be hard to move, even for one of his talents. Crouching, he lifted him into a rescue carry and straightened, the muscles in his legs and back protesting the extra weight. It was lucky he wouldn't have to carry him far._

_It was slow, the man's weight seeming to increase with every step, down a short stone hallway, then around a corner and four doors down on the left. Flicking a thought and a little power at the door, it opened before him and he set his burden inside. Four bundles under thin blankets breathed deeply and evenly, the drugs he gave them ensuring that they slept heavily and for hours more yet. Satisfied, he stepped back out and shut the door, locking it behind him._

Now, he just had to wait for Dusty to reply to his message, one way or another. She wouldn't risk hurting her precious children and would do anything to save them. If there was a little more incentive for her to surrender in the man he'd just put in the same room as her children, well, where was the harm in that?

Arus: Castle of Lions 

"You can't be serious, Nico," Gregori said to the screen of his computer, but from the look on his friend and fellow NightWalker's face, the situation was deadly serious. It was mid-afternoon on Earth, and only a few of the NightWalkers were stirring, most of them still asleep. Despite the fact that most of them moved about in the daylight, they were still most comfortable in the dark, and Gregori knew that wasn't likely to change. Nicolas had called a few minutes before, waking him, but his complaints about the indignity of waking before at least one in the afternoon were swallowed after Nicolas had shared the news of the kidnapping of Dusty's children. "Who would do such a thing?"

"That we don't know yet," he answered, shoving a hand through his hair in a rare show of agitation, "and it's going to drive us crazy until we find out."

"How'd he get in then out again?"

"How he got inside is another piece of the puzzle we don't have, but Barack saw him and said he just disappeared when he arrived, the youngest children with him."

"Into thin air?"

"Apparently. Even with the shock of watching his brothers and sisters being kidnapped right out from under his nose, I know he was speaking the truth."

"So what do you want us to do?" Nicolas hid a smile: however much he whined about it, Gregori always came through in a pinch, and though he usually had more information than necessary, the information he managed to get was first class.

"I need you to dig up as much as you can about the Forbidden Territories."

"There's a reason they're called the Forbidden Territories, Nicolas."

"I know, Gregori, but that could be where Dusty's kids are being held." Gregori sighed, rubbed a hand over his face before he nodded.

"I'll have everything I can by the end of today, Earth time."

"Thanks, Gregori."

"When you find out who this guy is, I want whatever's left after Dusty's finished."

"The line starts with Lance, Gregori, and goes around the block . . . twice." Gregori chuckled a little at that. "You'll have a long wait, my friend."

"But it'll be worth it."

"You're probably right about that." Nicolas chuckled now, pleased with the image that thought created. "Dig around as quietly as possible. Don't let this guy know you're onto him. He'll hurt the kids if he catches even the faintest whiff of our plans."

"I'll come at him downwind and be away before he even knows I'm there."

"Thanks again, Gregori."

"For Dusty, Nico, and her kids."

"For whatever reason, Gregori, thank you."

"Thank me later when I get the data you need." Nicolas disconnected with him then began typing again, his fingers flying over the keys as he entered a familiar number.

"What do you want, Nicolas?" Julian grumbled a minute later, his face mostly hidden in a pillow, his eyes still closed in defense from the bright computer screen and the sunlight spilling in between the blinds. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"It's one of my many talents, Julian," Nicolas answered, smiling a little. "I know what time it is in any given place at any specific moment of the day. I happen to know it's just after two in the afternoon on Mars just now." Julian muttered a rude suggestion in Italian, and buried his face in the pillow. "I'll have to pass on that, Julian, and I'd just like to say that it wasn't very polite of you to talk about my mother that way. She was a delightful woman. Julian, we have a problem."

"When don't we?" the barely awake NightWalker groused, lifting his head slightly and opening one eye to study Nicolas. Obviously some of the tension and frustration he was feeling was showing on his face because Julian instantly came awake and sat up in bed, the covers pooling about his hips. "Who did it and when?"

"Yesterday afternoon, Arus time as of now, and we don't know who it was." He sighed, feeling Dusty's emotions for a moment before she subsided once again. "Dusty's ready to explode, and it's all Lance and I can do to keep that from happening. It won't be pretty when it does."

"It never is," Julian agreed, looking down at his hands, fisted in his lap for a few seconds. "Which one did he get?"

"All of them, except Barack and Gwen." Clenching the blanket around his waist, his only concession to modesty, he turned the computer away from his bed so he could pace and still keep Nicolas in sight. Muttering under his breath, he shoved a hand through his hair and only succeeded in sending it into further disarray. Nicolas watched him fume for a minute before he regained control of himself. Sitting in one of the two armchairs set near the bed, Julian sighed.

"So what do we do?"

"Poke around as quietly as you can, Julian." Nicolas smiled a little now. "I know you have a back way into the Border Patrol's computers. We're pretty sure he's taken the children into the Forbidden Territories, and I need you to check what, if any, ships have gotten past the Border Patrol and where they were headed."

"I can do that easily enough. Do you need anything else?"

"Not at the moment. If I do, I'll let you know." There was a knock on his door and he glanced over at it, knowing who was on the other side. "As quickly and as quietly as possible, please, Julian."

"I'm a shadow, Nicolas, you know that." The screen went black and Nicolas quickly closed his own computer before standing and walking to the door. Opening it, he saw both Barack and Gwen on the other side, with Dusty's cats twining about their legs. From the looks on their faces, they had something they wanted to talk about and they wanted to talk about it with him.

"Come in, please," he said quietly, standing back to let them through. The room he habitually took whenever he visited Arus was an elegant one, much different from the one he'd spent several years in at Raven's Peak, but he felt as comfortable in it as he did in Dusty's California home.

Done in the understated style he preferred, the armchairs were the kind you could sink into until you just disappeared, the earth-toned fabrics comfortable for taking an hour to read or to settle into and take a nap. Between them, a low table held the few personal items he traveled with: his computer, his current book and an extra one he hadn't read yet for when he finished the first, as well as a framed picture of his family that Dusty had found for him. Where she'd gotten it, he didn't know, but he was grateful to have it, to be able to look at it and remember his family as they'd been before the accident that had taken them from him. The only other picture he had was of the other NightWalkers and himself, taken by Dusty in the glittering ballroom of the Peak. They all looked different, but there was something about them that Dusty had managed to capture with the camera, something that said that while they were dangerous, both as a group and as individuals, it was tightly leashed and controlled with all but their enemies.

Their loyalty to her and each other ran deep, and showed in the relaxed, easy smiles as they all grouped together, NightWalkers and grounds alike, for the group photo. Nicolas knew for a fact that each and every NightWalker had one, and that they never went anywhere without it. They all kept it carefully hidden, of course, on missions, but no one ever left it behind.

The bed was wide enough so four people could sleep comfortably, but neither he nor Dusty could do anything about that. He'd covered it with an old down comforter, once black but now it edged toward gray. Not that it mattered to him in the least: he preferred the old and comfortable to the new. Instead of the bright overhead lights, he used two lamps he knew perfectly well were Tiffany, and were a long-ago Christmas gift from Dusty. He owed her a lot, and he knew it: he owed her his life, and all that she'd helped him and every other NightWalker make of the mess that idiot Robinson had made of them. He'd been the first to find her, but others quickly followed.

Barack, too, knew the debt ran deep for him. When Gregori had found him on Mars, it had been a turning point for him. Dusty could have left him, a half-grown, temperamental boy with unleashed demons in the care of others, but she'd taken him in, given him her name and later siblings, a family. He'd been afraid for a time that once she had children of her own, she'd send him back to the Peak. She didn't, and he knew she never would. Watching the others disappear as they had had blown an enormous hole in his self-confidence, and left his grip, usually transparisteel hard for one so young, on his powers as shaky as they'd been when he'd Robinson's captive. He didn't have to feel Dusty's emotions to know how she fought for control, because he was fighting for it, too.

"Would you two like to sit down?" he asked, glancing toward the chairs set in a kind of conversation area in front of the marble fireplace on the other side of the room. He lifted an eyebrow at Barack and almost smiled. "Perhaps you'd like to pace?"

"Maybe later," Barack replied, grateful for his honorary uncle's attempt to lighten the mood. Gwen nudged him a little with her elbow, reminding him that if he waited too much longer to say what was on his mind, he might lose his nerve and bolt from the room. Nicolas didn't pry, but let the boy speak his mind on his own time and his own way. Barack was always careful about what he said, unless he was Gwen, and that was quite possibly the reason she'd come with him. He might watch what he said, at least around others, but that only made it more important when he did speak. "Uncle Nick, I want to ask you something," he began, helping Gwen onto one of the overstuffed chairs before he sat beside her. The cats settled themselves on the arms of the chair, their unusually intelligent gazes on him. Nicolas sat as well, before he steepled his hands under his chin and nodded for Barack to continue. "It might sound crazy, but--"

"Barack, when has that ever mattered between us?" He asked it quietly, gently, with only a faint hint of reproof in his voice. He didn't want to scare him back into silence, or intimidate him. "I always listen to what you have to say, no matter how it might sound." Barack nodded a little at the reminder, a small smile on his lips.

"Gwen and I know where the others are." Barack watched as surprise and bafflement chased each other across Nicolas's face. He saw the question forming in his eyes, and went on quickly before he could ask it. "We want to get them."

"Barack, how do you know where they are?" Nicolas wondered, not shifting from his relaxed position in the chair but Barack knew he was mentally on his feet and pacing around the room. "He made no mention of where he was keeping them--"

"Gwen figured it out," he replied, smiling and wrapping an arm around Gwen's shoulders to give her a squeeze.

"He's good, Uncle Nick," Gwen told him, sounding more like an adult than a child of six, "but not as good as I am, thanks to you and Mama. He left enough of a trail that I followed back to his computer."

"Why are you telling me this and not your parents?"

"Because Mama would fly off to get them," Gwen replied evenly, still in the very adult tone, "and Dad would go after her to keep her safe, probably blowing any chance we'd have to get them back."

"You know them well," he murmured, finally giving into the urge to pace, "better than any of us give you credit for." He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. "While you were hacking his computer, Gwen, did you happen to find out who he is?" She bit her lip, looking to Barack for direction. He gave her another squeeze, and she gave a reluctant nod. "Who?"

"You won't like it," she cautioned, but knew she had to tell him. This was something she couldn't keep from him even if she wanted to. She did, but only to spare him, Barack and the other NightWalkers further pain. Gwen hadn't told Barack what she'd found, not sure what would happen when she revealed his name.

"I knew that when I asked, _piccola,_" he answered, crouching in front of her and putting a comforting hand on her knee. "If you know who this is, I need you tell me. How else will we get the other kids back?" The cats stirred for the first time and each of them rubbed themselves against her, offering her their support as well.

"Robinson," she said slowly, watching his face go absolutely blank, "Elijah Robinson."

**AN:** Whew! What a chapter, huh? A bit longer than usual, but then again, it had to be to get everything I wanted to say into it. Hope you enjoyed it, at least enough to review, and move on to the next chapter. That said, I should probably get started on it.


	5. Revelations and Plans

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own it, as much as I want to, and like with Dragonball Z, I suppose I'll get used to it someday. I'm not making any money off this, only wish I was, and am only having fun with both the original characters and those of my own creation.

**AN:** What's a little girl to do when she discovers that the man who kidnapped her family is the very same man who made the NightWalkers and her brother what they are? Why, stick as close as she can to them, of course! How else are they going to stay grounded and rational enough to fight what's coming? More NightWalkers will join the gang, but how will they handle facing the demon of their nightmares face to face once again? Read on, and find out!

I apologize for the serious delay in getting this chapter up, but I guess I needed a break from writing. I was completely tapped out, and have only just now gotten back in the mood for it. All of my stories are now going well, and the chapters should come a little quicker now . . . I hope.

Arus: Castle of Lions 

When both Nicolas and Barack went utterly still, Gwen unconsciously held her breath, waiting for the explosion that was sure to come. While she was sure that Nicolas would hold back the worst of it out of consideration for her and Barack, her brother would not. He still occasionally woke from nightmares of being Robinson's captive, and though they had decreased in frequency, they had increased in violence and terror. Barack could never be sure how much was real and how much was his imagination running away with him, but in the middle of the night, that didn't seem to matter.

Nicolas shot to his feet, striding quickly across the room to stare with blind eyes out at the clouds boiling in the sky around the castle. Glancing at Barack, Gwen saw that he was stiff as a statue, looking like the slightest motion would shatter him. "You're sure?" Nicolas asked quietly, not turning from the windows.

"Yes, Uncle," Gwen answered, briefly closing her eyes. Even though they were shielding her from the worst of their pain and fear, she still felt it as if it were her own. This man terrified them, and they feared him for good reason: during his experiments, he'd removed all their natural barriers, leaving them with no way to block the thoughts and feelings of the people around them, not even each other.

"There's no doubt in your mind, Gwen?"

"None." Nicolas nodded absently, his mind on other things. He'd been one of the first, Nicolas knew, but he hadn't been the only one. Robinson had lost more than twenty of his "patients" through suicide and complete mental breakdowns. Unable to handle the stress of so many thoughts and emotions- and the psychic backlash they created- ten that he knew of had killed themselves while more had simply overloaded, their minds and bodies not strong enough to cope with what was happening to them.

"What do we do, Uncle Nick?" Barack wondered, jumping to his feet and sending both hands through his hair. "We can't leave the kids with him, but I can't--"

"Face him," Nicolas finished, turning away from the window. The young man across the room vibrated with terror and remembered pain, making his heart twist in his chest. His own memories of his years with Robinson might've been buried, but they were struggling to surface now. He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide their trembling. "We're going to have to, Barack. It's the only way to get the kids back and," he paused and blew out a breath before looking at Barack, "get over our pasts."

"I don't think I can," Barack answered, shaking his head, "not him." His voice shook. "Not him, not again."

"Not even to get your family back?" Barack turned away, his arms crossed over his chest. "You're right: we can't leave your brothers and sisters with Robinson. They've already been with him far too long." He sighed. "We really should tell your parents."

"We can't, Uncle Nick," Gwen said, standing and crossing to Barack. "We can't leave them, Barack. Like Uncle Nick said: they've been with him long enough. We either go now or we'll never see them again."

"Gwen, you don't know--"

"You're right, I don't," she interrupted, turning to face Nicolas, "but I can guess. We have to get them." She turned back to Barack. "We can't let what happened to you- all the NightWalkers- happen to them."

"Low blow, little girl," Nicolas muttered and Barack jerked. A quiet beep broke the silence that fell between them a few minutes later. Crossing to the computer, Nicolas checked who it was before answering. "What'd you get for me, Julian?"

"Good stuff, Nico," he replied, pushing a hand through his hair. "We've narrowed it down to about three."

"Out of how many?"

"Eight. Four ships, crews and cargoes were seized, one was unfortunately destroyed and three escaped." Pressing a few buttons, he sent Nicolas a file with the information he'd asked for, and on the ships that had gotten passed the Border Patrol. "Any new leads?"

"Nothing yet," he lied, shaking his head, gesturing off screen for Gwen and Barack to be silent. "I'll let you know if we find anything out."

"You'd better." The computer beeped again barely a moment after Julian disconnected.

"Gregori."

Approaching Forbidden Territories 

"Your mama's going to kill me," Nicolas groaned as they approached the Forbidden Territories. "You two must've hypnotized me to get me to agree to this."

"No, Uncle Nick, just got you to listen to sense."

"Children's logic, Gwen," Nicolas argued, putting his head in his hands. "I'm going to die. Dusty's going to murder me, and bury me in some deep, dark hole where I'll get eaten by rats until there's nothing left of me but scattered bones."

"That's gross, Uncle Nick."

"That's what'll happen, Gwen." He groaned again. "How in the world did you talk me into this?"

"We'll handle Mama, Nicolas," Barack said with a sigh. "Don't worry."

"How are we going to get in?" Gwen wondered, looking out the viewport. "We'll be coming up on the Border Patrol soon."

"There's a file in the computer, Gwen," Nicolas replied, his voice muffled by his hands. "We'll use the ship ID code inside to fool the Border Patrol. Take a look at it, would you? Make sure it'll pass inspection."

"No problem." For a few minutes, there was no noise except the tapping of keys. "Who gave this to you?"

"Julian, with a couple of tweaks from Gregori. Why?"

"This is good," she said, obviously impressed, "and there's only two or three holes."

"Plug them," Barack advised, sitting behind her. She sent an annoyed glance over her shoulder at her brother, but said nothing. _Do you think it's wise to show her how to create a false ID?_

_She's been doing that for a while,_ Nicolas answered with a shrug. _For now, it's a game to her. She'll have to grow up soon enough._

**Forbidden Territories: Uncharted Planet**

_He'd have to leave soon for more supplies. The kids ate more in one day than he did in a week, and his other prisoner must be hollow from the neck down the way he ate. Even with the drugs he put in the food to keep them docile, they were still very powerful. If they were anything like the other NightWalkers, the drugs wouldn't work for long, and he'd have to figure something else out. They'd start to lose potency in two or three days, four at most, then he'd either have to use something stronger or hope that Dusty turned herself over to either him or Galaxy Garrison._

_He wondered which option she'd take. With either one, she'd never see her children again. He'd return the kids, as promised . . . then kidnap them again. They'd make excellent NightWalkers with the right training from him._

**Arus: Castle of Lions**

"I haven't seen Barack or Gwen for a while," Dusty said, looking up from the computer screen and around the room as if she expected them to step out of the walls of the control room. "Have you?" Lance shook his head.

"They're around here somewhere," Lance replied, shrugging a shoulder. "They usually are."

"I just want to check on them," she told him, standing and pushing a hand through her hair. "I need to speak to Nicolas, anyway."

"Hurry back, _leannan_," he called over his shoulder as she left the control room. "I can't do this by myself."

"Yes, dear," she answered, the door sliding closed behind her. She nodded or spoke to those she passed, going first to see Nicolas. The fact that it was late didn't stop her from knocking on his door. No matter how late or early it was, if someone knocked on Nicolas's door, he answered it. She frowned when he didn't answer right away, as was his habit, but when she knocked again, there was still no answer. Listening, she noticed that there was no sound coming from the other side of the door. "Nicolas?" she called quietly, both aloud and mentally in case he _was_ asleep. Again, he didn't answer, not even a mumbled "go away." Heaving a sigh, she keyed in the access code. "Nicolas?" she called as she stepped inside.

The fire had burned down to embers, but there was still enough light for her to see that his duffel bag, laptop and pictures were missing. She knew no NightWalker went anywhere without them. "I _really_ hope you haven't done anything stupid, Nicolas." She left the room, locking the door behind her, and all but flew through the halls to her children's rooms. "Barack? Gwen?" Her stomach tightened in fear and her heart leaped into her throat as she spotted the note on Barack's pillow. Though he'd written it, Dusty knew it was Gwen who'd goaded him into it then given him the words to write.

_Mama,_

_We know where the kids are, who has them and where. You and Dad can't get them because they could be hurt or killed, but we can. We'll get them back, Mama. Don't be mat at Uncle Nick. We had to basically kidnap him to get him to come with us, and we would have gone without him, anyway, but it's easier if we have him._

_Barack and Gwen_

"I wonder if hero complexes are genetic," she mused with a sigh, folding the note again and tucking it into a pocket. "This is going to complicate things a little." She look down at her cats and lifted an eyebrow. "You three wouldn't know anything about this, would you?"

_No, Dusty,_ they answered together, _not a thing._

"That innocent look doesn't fool me, kittens," she said, scooping up Electron and catching his orange gaze. "What do you three know about this?"

_Nothing, honest,_ Electron replied, meeting her gaze even though he wanted to look away. Her gaze made it impossible to hide anything and as a familiar, he was unable to lie for long to his mistress.

_You know something, little man,_ she argued to him alone. _Spill it. You're going to explode if you don't._ He whimpered softly, make Proton and Neutron spit at him in disgust.

_Don't say a word, Electron,_ Neutron growled at him, swiping at his tail. _You know what'll happen!_

"What _will_ happen?"

_If you knew who has the kids,_ Proton admitted with a heavy sigh, _you'd probably go insane._

"Who has them?" Dusty asked, sitting down to gather them into her lap. "Please, tell me. Barack and Gwen have gone to get them, and I need to know how much trouble they're going to be in when they get back." Her kittens bounced looks between each other before answering. "Kittens, please, tell me."

_Elijah Robinson,_ they answered together.

"Oh, Bastet," she breathed, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall. "Why didn't they tell me?"

_They didn't want you to go running off after them,_ Neutron said, looking away. _They were protecting you, Lance and the other kids._

"Damn it, now I _have_ to go after them."

_No, Dusty,_ Proton protested, shaking her head. _If you go after them now, you may ruin any chance they have of getting them back safely. Let them do this._

_It's important to them,_ Electron added quietly, looking up at her. _Nicolas and Barack need to face him to put what happened to them behind them. Robinson is the primary reason _all_ the NightWalkers are who they are. If they knew—_

"Why don't they?"

_The same reason they didn't tell _you, Neutron answered with a mental shrug. _The other NightWalkers would do exactly what you want to do: shove him in some deep, dark and small hole and let the rats eat him while he's still alive until there's nothing left of him._

"Don't give me any _more_ ideas, kitten," she said, scratching his ears. She sighed heavily. "Lance is going to kill me."

**AN:** Shorter chapter than usual, I know, but everything I tried to add didn't seem to fit, so I'll just use it to start the next chapter. Again, I apologize for the seriously tardy update, and I'll try not to let it happen again.


	6. Recipe For Rescue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Voltron or any of its characters. I'm not making any money off of the stories I write. I'm just having fun with established characters and those of my own creation.

**AN:** Who is the mysterious prisoner that Robinson captured? Perhaps he'll be revealed this chapter . . . or maybe not. I will say, though, that I apologize for the serious delay in getting this chapter up. As usual, life has interfered with my writing, and I suffered from a severe case of writer's block . . . or maybe it was just bad planning on my part. Either way, here's the chapter.

Forbidden Territories: Border Patrol Outpost 

Nicolas had to commend Dusty on training her children. Both Barack and Gwen were very adept at making people see what they wished, though neither had her shapeshifting ability. Even though he knew them, their disguises fooled him for a few moments at first. As far as everyone else could see, they were both tall, looking too much alike to be other than siblings, both looking to be in their mid-twenties. Black hair matched Dusty's own raven black, closely cropped in Barack's case, hanging to her waist in a tight braid in Gwen's, while eyes the same storm cloud gray took in everything while revealing nothing. "Are they yours?" the lieutenant stationed inside the cavernous hangar asked, lifting an eyebrow at the similarities between the children and Nicolas.

"My sister's," he answered casually with a shrug. Even though Dusty was more of a mother to him and some of the younger NightWalkers, he had taken to his role of honorary uncle surprisingly well. "She died about a year ago, but I wasn't made aware of it until recently. I had to go back to Earth to pick them up."

"Yes, yes," the other man said, waving away his explanation. It was all clearly stated in his ship's log, and on his transport papers. "You say this is an exploratory mission?"

"Yes, sir," Nicolas replied, starting to sound bored, but he was closely monitoring the lieutenant's thoughts: if he suspected something, it wasn't revealed there or it was very well hidden. "Planet P4S-879 is thought to be rich in heavy metals. We'll basically be surveying the planet from orbit, perhaps landing occasionally to double-check the ship's scanners."

"Permits?" The lieutenant took them through the usual bureaucratic red tape for prospecting in the Forbidden Territories, and it was more than an hour before the matter was settled to his satisfaction. "You have a week to survey the planet, then gather all findings and report back to your company."

"Thank you, sir," Nicolas said, giving the man a nod and receiving an absent one in return. "Come on." He gestured for Barack and Gwen to follow after him, and they fell in behind him without complaint, never having opened their mouths except to answer direct questions. They kept up their facades as they boarded their ship once more, then lifted off. It wasn't until they were far out of scanner range that they dropped their disguises, becoming the children they were supposed to be again.

"That could have been quicker," Gwen complained, rubbing the back of her neck and the headache she knew was going to become bothersome later on. She'd never held an illusion for that long before, or had to make sure that so many people saw what she wanted them to see. The headache was the result, along with her being both hungry and almost too tired to keep her eyes open.

"He just wanted to make sure we were who we said we were," Barack explained patiently, taking over the task of massaging the knots from her neck and shoulders, "before he let us go."

"Gwen, why don't you go lay down for a bit?" Nicolas suggested, sensing the pain and exhaustion she was doing her best to ignore. "We won't land for another few hours, and you need as much rest as you can get before we get there." He studied Barack, who was dropping, but not as much as Gwen was. He went back to studying the navigation display, leading them closer and closer to the rest of Dusty's family . . . and his nightmares "Go with her, Barack. You need the sleep, too."

"I'm all right, Uncle Nick," he objected, catching Nicolas' eye when he turned around to face him again.

"Go with her, Barack," he said again, with just enough censure in his tone to have Barack nodding obediently and leaving the cockpit, Gwen on his heels. "Kids," Nicolas muttered to himself after the door had closed behind him. Barack knew that Nicolas had no intention of waking either of them until they reached their destination. They hadn't been getting much sleep recently, with one of them always at the controls or trying to reach the other kids. So far, none of them had managed that, other than a vague sense of direction and state of mind.

Whatever happened on the planet, or didn't, Nicolas would make sure that Barack and Gwen returned to Arus with their siblings, safe and sound.

Arus: Castle Of Lions 

"How long ago did they leave?" Lance demanded, the force of his emotions making Dusty's stomach clench, even though she'd been immortal. "Where have they gone?"

"I'm not sure how long ago they left," Dusty answered, shaking her head, "and I think they went to get the other kids."

"You're not serious?"

"Would I joke about something like this, Lance?"

"Dusty," he began, shoving a hand through his hair, but Dusty lifted an eyebrow to silence him.

"We can only hope they know what they're doing," she said quietly, gripping her elbows. "Robinson is expecting me, but not Barack and Gwen."

"So you're going then?"

"What other choice do I have?" she asked in reply, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her elbows even tighter. "I have to take the opportunity to stop him if I can."

"And if you can't?" He paced away before spinning around to face her. Several emotions were in his eyes, vibrating through the air between them, echoing her own as she fought to keep them controlled inside her.

"Getting all of them back is our only option, Lance," she told him, lowering her hands to fist them loosely at her sides. "There's no other choice for either of us. We'll do what we have to in order to get them back, and will stop at nothing until they're back here, safe and sound."

"What about you? I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you." He sighed and looked away, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "If you were still immortal, I might not have as much of a problem with this, but you're not anymore."

"It was my choice to give it up, _doushenka,_" she returned, "and I'd make that same choice again if I had the chance. You know that. I lived several lifetimes without you, and nothing I did, nothing I've learned, no one I met, could compare to the one lifetime I'm sharing with you. Nothing that came before now comes even _remotely_ close to what I have with you, our children and our friends."

"If you hadn't--" he started, bringing his gaze back to her.

"We'd be exactly where we are, only without the children. You might grow to hate me as the years passed and I remained unchanged while you grew older and older. I couldn't bear that. I made the choice to give up my immortality to be with you, in this life and whatever comes after it, because you're the only man in over three thousand years who made me feel complete, at peace. I've known many in my life, some who were good and some who weren't, but you're the best I've ever had the privilege to know." She looked down at the scarred toes of her boots, fighting to get the right words out before it was too late.

"Dusty."

"Let me do this, Lance," she said, lifting swimming eyes to him. "If I don't at least try, I'll never be able to forgive myself, or look any of my friends in the eye again. It won't matter if I would have succeeded or failed, because I would have given up before the fight even began."

"Promise me two things, Duster." She waited, wondering just what he was about to ask. "First, take Julian and Gregori with you. They'll keep you out of trouble, or help you if you get into it. Second, make sure that you've gotten rid of Robinson for good, or he'll have me and the other NightWalkers to deal with. Whatever else happens, take him down so he can't hurt others like he's hurt you, me, Barack and the others."

"I promise, to both of those conditions." She walked into his arms when he opened them, holding tight to the love she could feel pouring from him with every cell in her body. "I'll make one more, without you even having to ask. I promise that I'll come back to you."

"You'd better." She chuckled a little as her computer beeped with an incoming message. Pulling away from Lance just enough to see the screen, she saw that the message was from Julian. "Speak of the devil."

"I try not to. Why borrow trouble?" She stepped away and sat down before her computer, typing an encryption without thought. "Julian," she said when his face came into view. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, and there was a hunted look in his eyes that she recognized from when he'd first come to her almost thirty years ago. "What is it?"

"I've just gotten a message from Destiny," he replied, shoving a hand through his hair, sending it into further disarray. "She says that she's been having nightmares again."

"What kind of nightmares?" Dusty asked, going so still she hardly seemed to breathe. Destiny had been one of the first to find her, seeking help and training for the powers that Robinson's experiments had unleashed. She'd also been among the first to leave the confines of the Peak, confident that she had her past and powers under control. Dusty had done as much as she could to help, knowing that most of it had to be done by the NightWalkers themselves.

"Like the ones she's had before, only worse," he answered, "and she's not the only one."

"You?"

"Gregori and Lucian, too," he told her with a nod, "as well as almost all of the others. Something's going on, Dusty, and we're clueless as to what it is. Any ideas?"

_Tell him, Dusty,_ Lance suggested, knowing she'd make the decision on her own, but wanting to add his own opinion. _They have a right to know._

_I know that, Lance,_ she answered distractedly as she puzzled out how much to say and how much to keep for herself. Deciding that the whole truth was the wisest course, she said, "Robinson's back, Julian."

"What?" He went as still as she had, shock draining his face of what little color remained. "Are you sure?" She nodded, and told him everything, making sure to leave nothing out: the break-ins at the castle, her children being kidnapped, the ransom note, and Barack, Gwen and Nicolas leaving in the middle of the night to rescue them. "What now, Dusty?"

"I need you, Gregori and Lucian to come here," she informed him, sitting back in her chair a little. "The four of us are going into the Forbidden Territories to get my children and Nicolas out of there, and we're going to bring Robinson to justice."

"NightWalker justice?"

"Is there another kind?" Lance knew that Robinson was in trouble from the smile that spread across Julian's face. It was a predator's smile, full of malice and intent. Robinson would get exactly what was coming to him, only not in the way he expected it to. "How soon can you be here?"

"Dawn, local time, tomorrow if we leave now."

"I'll see you then, Julian." She stood, her customary composure now well in place. "Oh, and Julian?" she asked, an expectant smile on her face.

"Yes?"

"Tell the others."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a chuckle that could only be described as wicked just as the screen went black.

"What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall when you four meet up with Robinson," Lance said, shaking his head in amusement. "I have a feeling it would be more than worth the price of admission."

"I don't doubt it, my love," Dusty laughed, throwing her arms around him. "Things are _definitely_ looking up!" She kissed him then pulled away. "I've got to reach Nicolas, let him know we're coming."

"Do what you have to do," he answered, "and put this idiot away while you have the chance."

**Forbidden Territories: Uncharted Planet**

Nicolas raised an eyebrow when his laptop chimed from inside his duffle bag. Lifting it out, he opened it and saw that he had an incoming message from Dusty. _It certainly took her long enough,_ he thought to himself, as he typed in the encryption. "Hello, Dusty," he said when her image appeared on the screen. "Please don't hurt me."

"I don't plan on it, Nicolas," she replied, "but there's something I think you should know."

"Oh, really?"

"Absolutely," she answered with a wicked smile. "First of all, it seems almost _all_ the NightWalkers are having nightmares."

"You're joking."

"I never joke when it comes to my NightWalkers, Nicolas," she said firmly, completely ruining her lecture with the wicked smile still on her face. "That's only part of what I have to tell you, anyway. Secondly, I just got a message from Julian, Gregori and Lucian. We'll be heading your way by dawn tomorrow, and we should reach your position a day or so after that."

"Excuse me?" he asked, more than a little confused.

"Let's just say a little birdie told me which mouse is behind all this," she replied, "and I've passed the word on to my cats where to find this particular mouse."

"Aw, can I play, too, Dusty?" Nicolas begged after a moment or two to catch up. She'd basically told him that she knew exactly who had kidnapped her children, and she was now after his head and any other handy appendage that would present itself . . . which she'd probably rip clean off of his body when she got the chance, as slowly and as painfully as possible. "I cleaned my room and did all my homework and chores. Can I play, too?"

"I'll think about it, Nicolas," she told him with a chuckle. "Hold there, and don't let him see you."

"Hey, I'm just a simple prospector, searching for new metal and mineral deposits. I've got clearance from the Border Patrol and everything."

"How'd you manage that?"

"Julian, Gregori and Gwen. They came up with it, and Gwen just fixed the holes."

"Just do what the Border Patrol _thinks_ you're doing, then tomorrow, send a message to them saying that there's an new metal and you need to call in another team to help identify it. That should get Julian, Lucian, Gregori and I through rather neatly."

"Will do."

"Oh, and Nicolas?"

"Yes, Dusty?"

"If you _ever_ even _think_ about trying something like this again," she said, the smile disappearing from her face and eyes, "I _will_ be forced to something unpleasant _and_ permanent to your body. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal, Dusty."

"Good, as long as we understand each other. See you in a couple of days, Nicolas," she added, the smile coming back. His gut clenched into one hard knot, even though he knew that particular smile wasn't directed at him. Things were going to get very interesting when Dusty and the others got there, that was for sure.

**AN:** This feels like a good place to stop, at least for now. The next chapter should be up soon, but we'll have to see like we usually do. Happy reading, and I'm off to work on the next part of the story, this one and a couple of others.


	7. Sneaking and Surprises

**Disclaimer:** Why do I have to keep typing this out? Oh, yeah, it's because I'm still writing this stuff. Dang it. Oh well, here we go with the legal stuff: I don't own it, I never have and I never will. I only own the characters of my own creation and I'm just having fun with them and established characters.

**AN:** I was reading my last story, and noticed that I promised Dusty and her crew wouldn't show up as much. I realize now that I said that before Dusty began demanding that I give her one last story to complete her arc, and I obliged before I thought it through. To tell the truth, Dusty is one of my favorite characters that I've created, and she's been a constant source of amusement, concern and frustration when I can't get her to do what I want her to do.

To those of you who are still with me after this last delay in updating, I apologize for it. Life has, once again, interfered with my work, but I also suffered from a serious case of writer's block. I seem to have gotten past it and will endeavor to keep the streak going for as long as possible.

**Forbidden Territories: Planet P4S-879**

The big man looked around the cell, aware enough for the first time in three days to notice the details. Keeping the four children warm against him, he saw that the single door was made of solid-looking metal. A caged light bulb, too far overhead to be of any use, was flickering as it reached the end of its time. The single window, high on the wall, was too small for him to get through, but he might be able to get the kids out through it, but he didn't know where he was or what might be outside the walls, and it was barred in any case. There was one blanket for each child, but the blankets were threadbare, often full of holes, and were no insulation from the cold of the cell. He was sure the youngest, one of the older kids had called her Maggie, was coming down with something. He could only hope it was a cold and not something more serious.

He wasn't sure what had made him a target of the man who held them all captive, and was fairly sure he didn't want to know. Though he was a large man, he couldn't overpower their captor: he'd already tried. The man was powerful, and it wasn't just his muscles that gave him that power. His previous experiences with Dusty had driven home the existence of psychic powers, telekinesis especially, and he knew when it was being used against him. Unless he could catch the man unaware, which he doubted, they were stuck in the cell until they were rescued or released.

He shifted, trying to get comfortable with four kids sharing a bed, and Maggie made a small sound of distress. Laying his hand across her forehead, he frowned in concern when he felt how warm the child had become. She _was_ getting sick, and there was nothing he could do about it—

The thought was cut off when the door opened and their captor stepped in, carrying a tray of food. "They're asleep, the little angels," he sneered, a cruel smile on his lips, his eyes cold, hard and empty.

"Maggie's sick."

"Of course, she is," he answered, nodding absently, placing the tray on the floor by the bed. "I believe you. They're always getting sick at her age."

"I'm telling the truth! She needs a doctor and medicine!"

"I'll get right on it," their captor said, closing the door with a solid thud behind him. The bar that held the door from the outside slammed into place, waking the older kids.

"Is Maggie gonna be ok?" the oldest, Morganna, asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He couldn't lie to those wise eyes, but he didn't want to believe that the little one could die here, so far from her mother, and at the hands of their captor.

"I hope so, Morganna," he answered instead, tucking Maggie close to his side to keep her warm. "We have to be quiet, though, so she can sleep. She needs her rest."

"Ok." The big man could only hope they were found before it was too late.

_**Mustang Sally**_**, Approaching Forbidden Territories**

Dusty had left a detailed list of instructions for Lance, telling him to follow them if she didn't contact him one way or another in a couple of days. It told him who to contact and what to say to several agencies, Galaxy Garrison among them, in the highly unlikely event that Robinson escaped her and the other NightWalkers. Everything they could find out about him was contained in the list, including his highly illegal experiments with psychic children, as well as where and when he'd conducted them.

She hoped he wouldn't need it, but it was an option: Dusty always had several back-up plans in place, ready in case one of her primary plans didn't go exactly as she'd outlined it, or wasn't applicable to the situation. Nicolas had already contacted her, giving her a detailed layout of the building where her children were being held. Gwen had doctored a report of the minerals and metals on the planet, naming three that couldn't be identified, and requesting permission to bring in a team of specialists to take a look at them. Reading it over before she sent it to the Border Patrol outpost, Dusty knew she couldn't have done better herself, and vowed to find something more challenging for Gwen to do with her time.

Given her long, and interesting history with the Border Patrol, Dusty changed to Sarah, knowing only Julian would realize that it wasn't make-up and a wig that made her look that way. There wasn't any point in letting Robinson know she was coming to get her children back, and showing up at the outpost as herself or Loran Morgan would do just that really fast. The stir her appearance would cause would reverberate through the galaxy faster than a supernova.

"We're almost there," Julian said quietly, not wanting to disturb her, but feeling she had to know. Dusty had been unusually quiet during the trip, presumably working at keeping all of their nightmares at bay so they could arrive well-rested and ready to face Robinson, but Julian knew it was deeper than that. She was helping _all_ the NightWalkers, not just the ones onboard the _Mustang Sally_, and was also reaching for her children, making sure to keep it as low-key as possible to keep from alerting Robinson. "We should be there late tonight or early tomorrow."

"Thank you, Julian," she replied without opening her eyes, her face starting to show lines of strain from all the energy she was using. "Let me know when we arrive at the outpost."

"I will, under one condition." One of Dusty's eyebrows went up in clear anticipation of his condition. "You get some sleep before we get there."

"What will you do if I don't?"

"Not much," he answered, one shoulder jerking in a shrug. "I'll just tell Lance that you weren't as rested as you could have been before taking on what has to be a psychotic madman." Dusty humphed but tempered it with a small smile.

"All right, I'll sleep," she said, opening her eyes now. They were a brilliant emerald green, and shone with humor. Under it, he could sense the strain, concern and worry she managed to hide from everyone else. "Wake me when we get there."

"Yes, ma'am." He tossed her a salute and left the room, a pillow smacking him on the back of the head before the door closed. Laughing, he picked up the pillow and wandered off to the crew lounge to catch a nap himself with her laughter ringing in his ears.

_That rascal,_ Dusty thought to herself as she curled up on her bed. She loved all her NightWalkers, but that didn't mean that they couldn't drive her crazy at times. Then again, if it wasn't for them, she might have gone crazy a long time ago. They had offered her a lifeline in a time when she needed one the most, given her a purpose she wouldn't otherwise have had. Reaching for Lance, she made sure everything was as it should be on Arus and with him before drifting off to sleep.

**Earth: Big Sur, California Raven's Peak**

Destiny was glad that it was the summer holidays at Galaxy Garrison, otherwise she would have had to ask for a leave of absence. She had her hands full dealing with the other NightWalkers who couldn't leave the Peak because they were still to open to the emotions and thoughts of others, not to mention their nightmares. Her own nightmares were terrifying, and she didn't want to broadcast her fears to any of her charges at GG. Some were frightened enough of their powers, and if she added her own fears to theirs, they would shut down and never learn to control what they could do. That wasn't what they came to her for: they knew, as well as she did, that if they didn't learn to control their powers, they would lash out, or become so unpredictable that the only way to keep anyone from getting hurt was to commit suicide.

Out of all the children she'd taught, she'd only lost three that way. Each of them had made sure to make their deaths look like an accident, causing no on to cast blame or even suspicion on her and her teaching. She tempered her failure with those three with all the successes she'd had over the years, but she never forgot them. Destiny thought of them everyday, and even though she knew they were already too far-gone for her to help when they arrived, she wished there was something more she could have done for them.

She knew Dusty helped when she could, somehow sensing when the pressure became too much for her, even with the distance that separated them. Each and every NightWalker was calmer than they would have been ordinarily because Dusty reached out to all of them, telling them that she was going to deal with it once and for all, and they'd never have to go back to where they had been before. All of them feared that eventuality above all others: death would be preferable to going back to Robinson. He didn't know about grounds, or care what the overload did to the psychics he experimented on, as long as they got the job done before succumbing to the seizures, and if they set anything on fire, it was better than having an unconscious psychic fall into enemy hands.

Destiny had all the NightWalkers remaining in the Peak working on controlling their powers, mostly by having them levitate a pebble six inches above the palms of their hands. Some found it easy, while others had it a little harder. Control would come with practice, she assured them, and the backlash wouldn't hurt so much when they gained that control. It was that promise, she knew, that had them working so hard, together and alone. A flicker in her mind distracted her from her thoughts. _Dusty?_ she asked, ready to shield herself at a moment's notice.

_Destiny,_ Dusty answered with a small smile. _Is everything all right? How are the nightmares?_

_They're fading,_ she assured her, allowing her relief to flow through their connection, _and everyone thanks you for that. Aside from that, everything is just fine. How close are you?_

_Another few hours,_ Dusty replied, sighing now, and Destiny could hear how tired she was._If you need anything, there's someone I want to put you in contact with. His name is Shang Yakuza. He's currently on Earth, and is in the area, if memory serves. If _anything_ happens, call him. Tell him I sent you, and he'll give you any help you need._

_Thank you, Dusty,_ Destiny said, knowing it was Dusty's way. Even though she wasn't around as much as she had been when she'd first started the NightWalkers, she still looked out for everyone, making sure each and every one of them got a quick message or even just a brush of her thoughts against their mind, letting them know she was with them, and only as far away as a thought. _Good luck._

_Thank you, Destiny. I wish you the same._ With that, Dusty was gone, leaving Destiny alone with her thoughts once more. One of the youngest NightWalkers, Nataliya, walked up to her, complaining that she couldn't get the pebble to float. Destiny smiled, and showed her how, going through the process slowly so she could see each step. Taking the pebble back, she concentrated and the pebble rose, slowly and a little wobbly, but it stayed six inches above her palm.

"Good work, Nataliya," Destiny praised, watching as the pebble slowly settled back into her palm. "Try it again, and keep it steady for as long as you can."

"Yes, Ms. Destiny." She skipped off with a brilliant smile, her shoulders straightening with self-confidence. _There are days,_ Destiny thought with secret delight, _when I just _love_ my job._

**Forbidden Territories: In Orbit Planet P4S-879**

Gwen sat up a little straighter in the co-pilot's seat, coming awake quickly from the nap she'd been taking. Barack glanced at her, and seeing her expression of rapt attention not quite covering the guilt, sat up a little more, too. Taking a deep breath, she called, _Mama?_

_Gwen, are you all right?_ Dusty asked, her concern for her children overcoming her annoyance with the Border Patrol and their seemingly endless stream of paperwork. She understood that they were just doing their jobs, but in all honesty, they probably didn't have anyone to read _half_ of the paperwork they were required file. _Probably one of the _dumbest_ ideas I ever backed,_ she thought to herself with self-disgust. _Then again,_ she realized with a half-smile, _getting around all of those rules was half the fun._

_We're fine, Mama,_ Barack said, pushing a hand through his hair as Nicolas joined them in the cockpit. _Nothing's happened that we can't handle yet._

_Your father and I are going to have some words with you when we get home,_ she warned and they could see the look she got on her face when one of her children was in serious trouble.

_Yes, Mama,_ they answered together, knowing it would probably be a long time before they were allowed out of their rooms again. The kitchen would sparkle, every piece of glass and metal in the castle would be polished to within an inch of their lives and that was _if_ their mother was feeling generous. If she wasn't in a generous mood, she would most likely turn them over to Nanny or to Uncle Keith, which was probably worse. He never said much when one of them was in trouble and sent to him for punishment, just took them to the stables and had them mucking out stalls . . . all day long.

_That aside, how does it look?_

_It_should_ be easy getting in and then getting out,_ Nicolas replied, smiling a little at them in encouragement, _but then again, nothing about Robinson is what it seems._

_Given that you've been there the longest, and have the most complete data, what would you suggest?_ Nicolas was a little taken aback at the question, and he had to remind himself that Dusty was thinking of her children's safety as well as the safety of her NightWalkers. Her own safety would fall far down the list, but Nicolas knew Lance would have his head on a platter if anything happened to Dusty.

_I have a rough plan, _he allowed, _but it needs work._

_Why don't you share what you have, and we'll move on from there,_ Julian suggested, revealing that he'd been in on the conversation for some time. _We can bounce ideas back and forth between us until we join you._

_Have Morganna, Cain, Alan or Maggie tried to contact you, Dusty?_ Nicolas asked into her mind alone.

_No,_ she answered with a worried frown. _I can _feel_ them, but I can't sense anything other than their location and the fact that they're still alive._

_Gwen and Barack say the same thing,_ he told her, looking at down at the pair as they caught a few more minutes of sleep in the cockpit chairs. _It's like there's a wall they can't break through, no matter how hard they try. I've tried, too, but come up with nothing._

_This is starting to get complicated, my friend,_ Dusty said, sighing heavily. _I don't like how easy it's been to find him, get here, and past the Border Patrol. I've never liked it when missions were straightforward at the start, only to turn into catastrophic failures or be monumentally more complex than I ever imagined them to be._ She chuckled a little self-deprecatingly now. _I prefer all the complications up front so I can deal with them right off, not later when I might make a mistake or overlook something in the heat of the moment._

_I know exactly what you mean, Dusty,_ he answered wryly, sitting in an empty seat and watching the planet roll steadily by under his ship. Somewhere down there, on that ball of brown, white, and blue, Dusty's children were waiting for them. How much longer they had, only Robinson could say, and if Dusty could do anything about it, Robinson wouldn't live to see the next morning.

**Forbidden Territories: Planet P4S-879**

_Dusty was due to contact him sometime that day. If he didn't hear from her by midnight, he'd start taking her youngest child apart and send her home in pieces. From the way she sounded when he dropped off their meals, she might not last much longer in the cell. He frowned: it wasn't part of his plan for the children to die unless it was at his hands, but it _would_ mean one less mouth to feed for a little while. It was either wait for her to die on her own, kill her himself, or get the medicine she needed so she'd be healthy enough for the tests he wanted to put her and her sibling through._

_Pushing a hand through his hair, he paced around the sparkling kitchen, not caring that it looked out of place in the rest of the complex. It served his purpose, so he could overlook it. All the appliances were new, the sink was empty, and the cupboards full of clean dishes and the pantry, refrigerator, and freezer were well stocked. An island sat, its marble countertop gleaming in the bright light, a little off center to the rest of the room, but then, he'd designed it that way. There were no windows, nothing to distract the eye or the mind from his purpose._

_Nothing meant more than getting the all-powerful Dusty into his hands, along with her NightWalkers, and if he had to help the child to do that, then he would. He sighed heavily, knowing it would mean another trip into the nearby town for medicine and he would run the risk of missing Dusty's message. _Then again,_ he thought, stopping his pacing long enough to smile, slow and cruel,_if I make her wait for a reply, she might do something stupid. _Somewhere in his mind, he heard a snort of disbelief, knowing Dusty never made a thoughtless move when someone or something she cared about was on the line._

_Either way, he knew he was making the trip into town for medicine whether he liked it or not._

_**Mustang Sally**_**, Forbidden Territories: Planet P4S-879**

Dusty watched as the planet grew larger in the viewscreen, knowing her children were down there. There was nothing to do now but wait for the time to call Robinson and give her decision. As she was there, not at Galaxy Garrison or with the Border Patrol, to his mind she would have made the decision to turn herself over to him. She knew better than to give in to that demand, but if it became necessary, she would do so without a moment's regret. It would weigh heavily on her heart, soul and conscience to leave Lance, the children and her NightWalkers, but if that was what it took to keep them safe from Robinson, she knew if it came to a choice, she would protect those she loved above all else first.

Along with the detailed instructions, she'd left Lance a long letter, locked in a drawer in her studio, with strict instructions to her cats that he wasn't to know about it until they received news, either from the NightWalkers . . . or Robinson. _He's just the type to gloat about something like that,_ she thought, catching a blip on the scanner that she knew was Nicolas' ship. Hopefully, the letter would help him understand why she had done what she'd done, and ease his guilt, but then again, she knew him, almost better than he knew himself. It would hurt him deeply, but she knew that he would survive. He would have to, because of their children, and what she was giving him. She knew he was probably the only other person in the universe who knew what her NightWalkers had gone through, and would guide them, not as well as she had, but just as effectively and with just as much concern for their welfare- physical and mental- as she did.

She thought about that, why there seemed to be more and more psychic children coming to the Peak than usual. They were either orphans or runaways, cast-offs from a system that didn't know how to deal with them and what they could do. Not all of her NightWalkers were the result of experiments, though most of the older ones were, and there was something going on that needed looking into. If she lived through this, she'd get some of them to do so, knowing she'd probably be too busy to do it herself.

Heaving a sigh, she looked at the ship's clock and saw that she had another couple of hours before she had to make the call to Robinson. Dusty got to her feet, checked on the autopilot, and, assured it was working properly and would keep the _Mustang Sally_ in orbit above the abandoned building that Robinson had claimed as his base, she went to find Julian. She wanted a sparring partner.

**To Be Continued . . . **


	8. Too Soon or Too Late?

**Disclaimer: **As usual, I don't own Voltron and never will. The only characters I own are mine, and the originals . . . well, I only wish I did. Oh, well.

**AN:** Well, another chapter came to a close, with Dusty only hours away from seeing her children again. But something isn't right, as Dusty and the NightWalkers suspect. What is it that's holding Dusty back from taking back what's rightfully hers, and what other secrets does Robinson hide? Find out in this exciting chapter!

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**Forbidden Territories: Planet P4S-879**

"I've been waiting for your call, Dusty," Robinson said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers under his chin. Before answering the call, he'd checked to see where it was coming from. It was coming from Planet Arus, so she must have been waiting until the last moment to leave for one of the places he'd given her to go. "I must compliment you on your . . . punctuality by calling just before the deadline."

"I'll return the favor by saying that I, shall we say, admire your gumption in stealing my children from their home," she replied, keeping her voice even, "and out from under the noses of the Voltron Force and myself." Dusty kept her expression as controlled as her voice, not letting one iota of the fear she felt color either. She refused to give the bastard the satisfaction. She also knew that deception was a big part of the role she had to play now, so she'd sent a signal to Lance and he was sending it to the Forbidden Territories via a satellite in orbit around Arus. Gwen had doctored the image to look like the control room, giving the impression she was still on Arus. "Now, let's talk about that joke of a ransom note you sent me."

"All or nothing, Dusty," he told her, enjoying the position, "that's the way it is. You either give me what I want, or I send your children home in pieces. The terms, as stated in the note, are that you either turn yourself and the NightWalkers over to me, or you turn yourself in to either Galaxy Garrison or the Border Patrol and stand trial for your crimes."

"Need I remind you that Galaxy Garrison was perfectly aware of my existence?" she wondered, one finger tapping her chin as she thought of how much to reveal. "Your sources probably forgot to mention that, as well as the fact that I gave them plenty of opportunities to stop me, but they never did. Most of the people I killed were crime bosses, corrupt officials, or those who were causing trouble for the universe. Either that, or they were about to." She smiled now, the action full of satisfaction. "The Border Patrol is a joke. That was all I proved with my 'smuggling', Robinson. I never moved anything that wasn't on my manifests, I just pretended to. All I was doing, believe it or not, at Galaxy Garrison's request, was find loopholes in the security so they could be fixed.

"Guess that didn't really factor into your equation, did it?"

"Be that as it may," he answered, cursing his sources and his own need to bring the Mighty Dusty some degree of humiliation, "I still have your children. It's your choice, Dusty: the NightWalkers or your children." He paused, and looked up at her from under his brows. "The smallest, Maggie, is sick, by the way."

"If you think I didn't know that already," Dusty told him, "you're more stupid than I thought. Then again, you've already proven yourself pretty moronic by kidnapping my children. Did you really think that I wouldn't find out just whom had taken and where? The why wasn't hard to guess after I read that pathetic excuse of a ransom note."

"Are we going to spend the rest of the night insulting each other, Dusty?" he asked, wanting to get on with what her decision was. His patience had never been a particularly deep well, but it was rapidly drying up. "I'm getting more than just a little bored."

"All right, enough cat and mouse, then," she allowed, sitting back in her own chair and folding her hands calmly in her lap. "Let's cut the crap and get down to brass tacks."

"Eloquently put," he replied with a slight grimace. "I also have one more hostage I'm willing to negotiate with."

"Really?" She looked intrigued by the notion that he might have surprised her. "Who might that be?"

"Someone you know very well," he said, a sly smile tugging the corners of his mouth now, "but may not have seen in a while."

"That only covers half of the galaxy, Robinson," she answered, shrugging one shoulder a little. "Could you be a little more specific?" She was already reaching for her children, making sure to keep it as low-key as possible, and learned the identity of the fifth hostage from them. Inwardly, she was shocked, but she managed to keep it from her face and voice, and, though she wasn't sure how, to keep it from rippling through space, betraying her actual position.

"I honestly don't know where he puts all of the food he eats," he went on as if to himself, "because he eats like an army and it doesn't show anywhere on him."

"That helps," she said, and closed her eyes as if in thought. "No, I already know he's in prison, and _he_ wouldn't be able to get within two star systems of me before I know exactly where he is. Hmm, this is tougher than I thought it might be. All right, I give up. Who is it?"

"You know him as Hunk," Robinson answered, nonplussed when she simply blinked in reply to that tidbit of information. "He's safe, for now, the same as your children. Their continued safety depends upon you. You turn yourself and your NightWalkers over to me, or I send the precious kiddies and Hunk to Arus in pieces."

"It might take a while for Hunk, Robinson," Dusty commented, working furiously to get a plan into place to get her children and now Hunk out of Robinson's hands as quickly and safely as possible. "He's a big guy, after all."

"Ah, but I won't start with major parts, Dusty. Fingers and perhaps toes first, each one removed as slowly and painfully as possible."

"Now you go too far," she replied, letting a small portion of anger color her tone now. If she let him hear more, he'd feel it and know she was closer than she should be. "If I come to you, all of my NightWalkers in tow, you say you'll release my children and Hunk."

"Those are the terms."

"I know more about the NightWalkers than you do," she said, speaking haltingly now, as if reluctant to give too much away too soon, "probably more than you'll ever know. Let's try this: take just me for now. I'll tell you what you want to know, and probably things you don't, if you send my children and Hunk home. Then, when I'm assured they've arrived, I'll call the NightWalkers to my home on Earth, and you can do what you like. However, if you kidnap my children again, or cause more harm to my NightWalkers than I like, I will retaliate. So will my NightWalkers, swiftly and much more silently than you can possibly imagine."

"Either way, Dusty, you have to come to me," Robinson replied, spreading his hands briefly. "All you have to do is set the autopilot for Arus and I'll let you put your children aboard. You can lock the door behind them, but you won't be following after them any time soon." _If you leave here at all._ They both heard the words he didn't say, as clearly as if he had. He knew she didn't like it, but it was the last option she had.

"Very well," she answered finally, heaving a deep sigh. "I will leave here immediately, but it will take two or three days to get there."

"You have two days, Dusty," he told her, being careful not to let his triumph show. He'd forced her to tip her hand and give in, but he wasn't about to give her any kind of advantage over him. "Just remember the consequences if you don't show up."

"I'll remember," she replied quietly, her eyes flashing with anger and impotent fury. Inwardly, she vowed she would extract her vengeance against him if it was the last thing she did. "Until then, Robinson."

"Two days, Dusty," he reminded her, cutting communications before she would say more. Letting out a huge sigh, Dusty slumped against her chair and made sure she had a firm hold of her emotions before Robinson learned just how close to him she already was. Even as tightly controlled as they were, her emotions were also leaking to her NightWalkers, giving them an inkling of just how close to snapping she was. On the heels of that thought, Julian appeared in the hatch, a questioning look on his face.

"I'm all right, Julian," she assured him before he opened his mouth. She pushed a hand through her hair, and sighed again. "It was harder than I thought it would be, but I've managed to get us another two days. We won't need them, but it's a nice cushion just in case."

"Don't bottle it up, Dusty," he advised, stepping into the room and resting his hands on her shoulders. "It won't help to keep it all inside."

"With what I've got inside me, Julian," she replied, closing her eyes as he rubbed her shoulders, "it wouldn't be a good idea to let it out. Not only could it give away our position to Robinson, but it could also backlash on you guys and my kids. We'd all be useless for days if I did that."

"Good point," he allowed, shrugging his shoulders a little. "How about we go a round or two? That might help you feel better."

"I'll just hurt you," she said with a weak chuckle, "and you'd be absolutely useless for, quite possibly, weeks. Thanks for the offer, my friend. Perhaps next time."

"Perhaps." He was actually glad she'd refused his offer, because she'd been right. In her current state, which he could feel even though she was keeping a tight lid on the worst of it, she could quite possibly kill him before she thought it through. He enjoyed life too much, the good, bad and in-between times, for that. There was really only one person she would unleash her ire on, and thankfully, it wasn't him. It was the idiot who'd kidnapped her children and hurt her NightWalkers so long ago. Robinson had much to answer for, and Dusty would bring him to task better than any other could ever hope to.

He was well aware that she knew it wouldn't help her NightWalkers regain what they'd lost, and she had certainly done her best by them for longer than anyone, NightWalkers included, had expected her to. She was still doing it, even though she had a full and demanding life on Arus. Dusty had made sure that all of her NightWalkers, old and new, knew that she was no more than a thought or a call away at any time. She never did anything halfway, and helping her NightWalkers regain the control that Robinson had ripped from them was only the beginning.

All the NightWalkers knew it was more than that: she had given them a chance to regain control of their powers, but also a chance to get control over their lives. The decisions were theirs, and always had been, but she'd been there to catch them when they fell, ready to offer an ear, a shoulder, or a rap on the head when necessary. In return, the NightWalkers were, in the main, fiercely loyal to her and each other, ready and willing to do whatever she might ask of them.

If that included facing the demon of their pasts, then that's what they would do. Everything else was just a nice side benefit.

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**AN:** Shorter chapter than usual, I know, but it seemed like a good place to stop. Actually, I tried for days to get more in, but nothing seemed to work. Oh, well. I'll just move on to the next chapter and hope things work a little better there. Don't forget to review, folks, and maybe if you've got an idea or two, I might try to work it in. Wish me luck!


	9. Turning Point

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own it. The only things I do own are Dusty, her NightWalkers, the kids, Robinson and Brown Lion. I'm not giving them up without a fight. Deal. With the legal stuff out of the way- again- let's get back to the story.

**AN:** Well, things are certainly getting interesting for Dusty and company, aren't they? It's only going to get worse, and better, from here on. Wish me luck, and don't forget to review!

**AN2:** Due to an unfortunate incident with my computer, I was without a way to write except by hand for almost two months. I'm so very sorry for the delay in getting this down. I actually started this chapter several times on paper, and I think I've finally got it down. Here we go!

Planet P4S-879

"We'll be landing in a few minutes, Dusty," Julian told her, poking his head into the cargo area where she'd set up a punching bag. She was busy pounding her frustrations into it, and had been for some time. He was _really_ glad at that point that she'd turned down his offer of sparring with him. In her current mood, she'd probably incapacitate him for days, possibly weeks, without meaning to.

Dusty had left the ship in orbit for two days, always staying on the far side of the planet, as far from Robinson's scanners and satellites as possible without leaving the area. Nicolas had joined her there, the two ships hanging over the planet within sight of each other, but no more. To come closer together might give away their position, and none of them wanted to risk it. Dusty had given some thought to docking the ships together to get Barack and Gwen back with her, but she knew that it would have to wait. They would leave with the other ship when Dusty turned herself over to Robinson, leaving her children in the care of her Nightwalkers until they reached Arus.

"Thanks, Julian," she replied distractedly, working her way around the bag. Each blow threatened to snap the thick chain that held the bag to the ceiling of the room. He looked away, knowing she needed to expend the energy, but it wouldn't help if she gave away her emotional state to Robinson before they got there. "Don't worry about me, Julian. I'll be calm enough when we get there." He jerked in surprise, his eyes jumping to her. She had stopped and faced him now, her hands at her sides.

"I apologize, Dusty," he said, stepping through the hatch to join her, "for not controlling my thoughts or emotions better."

"It's not your fault, Julian," she explained, shrugging a shoulder in dismissal. "Robinson makes all of my NightWalkers nervous, and I'm sure my current mood hasn't helped anyone."

"Not much, that's true." He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. "We all know that you'd never let us fall into his hands again, but it doesn't stop the fear that he might find us again one day. We _all_ fear him and his methods, but we fear loosing you to him more."

"I shouldn't have to remind you that I handled myself, and handled myself well, for a long time before all of you came along." She smiled, a little sad around the edges, but happy all the same. "You all gave me a purpose when I needed one. I was wandering, not sure what I wanted to do, and then Nicolas showed up, desperately in need of help and healing. He told me of the experiments, and what happened, but mostly he told me of all of you, still with Robinson."

"You came to us, time after time, and helped us survive, getting us out one at a time, no matter where Robinson moved us or what he tried to do, to you and to us."

"I can't forget a debt like that, my friend," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't- won't- leave anyone to face this monster again. No matter what happens, I want you to know that. I've always looked out for you, and I always will. We all know that distance doesn't matter between us. We've never been far from each other in our thoughts, and that's the way it's going to stay."

"You gave us everything, Dusty. A chance to be who we were, without fear of ridicule or exposure. You rescued us from hell, and asked for nothing in return, except that we work to better ourselves, and our control over our abilities."

"And that's all I will ever ask of you." She moved to him, gliding across the space between them easily, naturally, every move full of unconscious grace. "I won't ask you to face Robinson again," she murmured, reaching up to wipe away the tears he didn't know he'd shed, "and I know that if I did, you'd all do it without a second thought. He has much to answer for, and I refuse to allow him to continue to experiment with psychics, natural and the one's he's made."

"I know," he replied, catching her in a hug, holding onto her for dear life. She knew he needed it more than she did, so she just held him until he regained control of himself, drawing the energy from him. "If anything happens to you, Dusty-"

"Something always happens to me, Julian," she answered with a laugh, "and it may not always be good, but it always works out for the best in the end. Look what happened when I met all of you. That was hardly fair."

"Hardly," he agreed, lifting his head with a chuckle of his own. "You'll have to admit that we're good for you, though."

"Without a doubt." She smiled. "Now, I've got to get ready to face Robinson."

"I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you get him alone, Dusty," he said impishly, a devilish look coming over his features. "I have the feeling it would be more than worth the price of admission to see his face when he realizes that the tables have turned on him."

"I'll study his face carefully, and share it with you," she promised, putting one hand on her heart as she made the oath. "I don't want you anywhere near him."

"I know, Dusty," he replied with a small sigh of regret. "I just don't like the idea of you going alone into the beast's lair." He looked deep into her eyes, noticing that they'd changed to a soft blue, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "We won't be far away if you need us, though."

"Thank you, Julian." She led the way to the cockpit, taking the pilot's seat from Gregori with a grateful smile. "Where's Lucian?"

"Asleep," Gregori replied quietly, nodding toward the crew lounge. "I think he's up to something."

"You think everyone's up to something," Julian retorted with a chuckle.

"It keeps me alive, Julian," he said evenly, not letting Julian get to him. "Maybe you shouldn't do this, Dusty."

"Now who's up to something?" she asked, giving him an exasperated look. "I can take care of myself."

"I'm not doubting that, Dusty," he told her, holding his hands out to the sides, "but I doubt Robinson would hand over your children so simply. He has a plan, one we don't know about, and probably many traps between them and safety."

"I've already thought of that, Gregori." Her eyes shot sparks at him, irritated all over again. "I'm prepared for whatever comes." He looked doubtful still, and she could feel her temper rising. _What is it with men,_ she silently asked herself, shaking with annoyance, _that makes them think that women can't handle themselves?_

_Is there a way I can answer that without sounding like a complete idiot?_ Lance wondered with a laugh, tempering her mood with humor. _Forgive us poor males, Dusty. We're all just a few swings away from the trees. It's ego and sheer desperation. We have to keep you thinking we're the superior species._

_My love, women everywhere have realized that a long time ago. We've adjusted to it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't drive us crazy. Most of the things we do are designed to keep men on their toes._

_I thought it was something like that,_ he grumbled, shaking his head. She laughed at him, at both of them, and let it go. There wasn't time for arguments, and she refused to waste energy trying to persuade them to her point of view. Julian understood, and would eventually bring Lucian and Gregori around.

"We'll be landing in a few minutes," she said instead, her tone leaving no room for objections. "Robinson said he'd meet us, the children with him, and would let them leave with the ship. We're not sure if he's going to do so, but we're going to pretend like we believe him. Don't do anything stupid, or your lives won't be worth living. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Dusty," Julian and Gregori answered together.

"Here we go, then."

She's coming!_ The excitement of that one thought raced through him, making him want to laugh aloud as he filled a syringe of medicine for the little one. He controlled the urge, knowing better than to waste the energy on such a foolish display. He had such plans for her, but was careful to keep a tight lid on them. Giving such ingenious plans away to one's enemy was never a good idea, especially around someone of Dusty's caliber. If she was anything like her children or the NightWalkers, he would have his hands full. She gave as good as she got, and would continue to frustrate him, much as her children had._

_Each of her children, even the youngest and as sick as she was, could keep him out of their heads. Not one of the exercises that Dusty had given them leaked through: it was like trying to dig through a transparisteel wall with a wet toothpick. He'd tried everything he could safely think of to break the barriers, but they held firm. He wondered if Dusty had put them there herself to protect her children from overload, and surmised it was possible. If she'd dealt with the NightWalkers for an extended length of time, and it was obvious she had, she would do everything in her power to protect her children from such an occurrence._

_He'd noted the phenomenon while he'd been working with them, but he'd dismissed it as irrelevant. The fact that there were natural barriers to the mind wasn't that important. It was creating the brute strength to penetrate those barriers, gathering information and planting suggestions that had been his goal. Nothing else mattered. Several of the NightWalkers were good at that, and had been assigned to various high power people, but all had returned with brain bleeds, unable to filter out the unwanted thoughts and emotions of others around them. Certain people made them feel better, but they were only allowed to rest with them when the job had been done._

_He'd deliberately pushed them beyond their endurance, hoping to make them stronger on their own, but it had backfired on him. He reminded himself to ask Dusty how she'd managed to keep so many NightWalkers alive and functioning in normal society when he had her to himself. _Asking questions will have to wait,_ he told himself with a sigh, pushing a hand through his hair. _First things first . . .

Planet Arus: Castle of Lions

"Any word from Dusty, Lance?" Keith asked quietly, coming into the control room where his friend had apparently set down roots. He barely slept, making Keith look like a slacker in comparison, and it was rare for him to join the others at dinner. Nanny made sure the maids delivered food and tried to make sure that he ate, but they were hard pressed. She had finally come to Keith, telling him he'd better do something before she had Doctor Gorma sneak up behind him with a syringe full of sedatives so he'd sleep. Looking at him, Keith wondered if that wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

"She's getting close," he answered with a grim smile, "and is apparently annoyed with the male half of the population. Gregori is questioning her plans, and that's never a good idea."

"No," Keith agreed, leaning a hip on a nearby console. "I'm sure she can handle herself. After all, she's over three thousand years old."

"We actually manage to forget that for long stretches at a time, Keith."

"Sure, but it's never far from your mind. In any case, she's not immortal anymore, so she's going to have be careful."

"She knows that, Keith," Lance pointed out with a sigh, pushing both hands through his disheveled hair. "I'm not worried about accidents, I'm worried about on purpose."

"You think she'd stay with him, willingly, to keep him from the NightWalkers?"

"She's been working with them for years, trying to minimize the damage Robinson did to them. They're very important to her, Keith, and she'll do anything to protect them."

"Including turning herself into Robinson's guinea pig?"

"I'm really hoping that she won't," he replied fervently, "but I'm not discounting the possibility."

_You _are_ an idiot, Lance,_ Dusty thought waspishly at him. _I'm going to take him out, and stuff his head somewhere unpleasant. The thought crossed my mind, but was dismissed because I love you and our children too much to never see you again. What do you take me for?_

_I'm sorry, Dusty,_ he answered, truly contrite. She muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath, making him smile. _Come home soon, baby. I find myself missing you._

_I miss you, too, my love. I'll be home as soon as I can._ Dusty sighed, longing heavy in the small sound before she pushed it aside and chuckled. _I promise not to do anything stupid or get myself hurt._

_Not one scratch, Dusty,_ he ordered, unable to stop himself. _I won't be responsible for what happens if you come back with even the _smallest_ scratch _anywhere_ on you._

_Yes, dear,_ she replied, giving him the impression of her nodding submissively, when she was anything but submissive. She was laughing at him, he knew she was, and it made him laugh at himself. He relaxed, letting the sound wash over him. The feel of her arms around him was strong and she pressed a gentle, loving kiss to his lips. _You need sleep._

_So do you._

_I can sleep later._

_So can I, Dusty._ She laughed again, love in the sound. How she'd ever chosen him, he'd never know, or understand, but would always be both grateful and humbled that she did. Somehow, she loved him enough to stay with him, even though she could have had her pick of men.

_Silly man,_ she said with an indulgent sigh. _I've seen no one but you since the moment I met you. There are others out there, but only one who has touched my heart the way you have._

_I love you, Dusty. Come home soon._

_I will, my heart. Rest for a while,_ she urged, and he could feel her concern. _You'll be better for it._

_So will you._ He sighed again, pushing a hand through his hair. _I'll rest if you do._

_I'm off for a nap, then. Sleep well, Lance._

_You, too, Dusty._

**To Be Continued . . . **

**AN3:** That seems far enough for now. Nothing else seemed to fit, so I'm off to start the next chapter. Wish me luck, and don't forget to review. I need some help deciding just how Dusty's going to pull one over on Robinson.


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